


Normality

by Missing_Intestines_18



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 20:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missing_Intestines_18/pseuds/Missing_Intestines_18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's world spirals out of control following a traumatic experience. Gavin tries to fix him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The fall

**Author's Note:**

> Back in the saddle again. Haven't wrote anything in a while, so don't expect perfection.
> 
> Plus, I wrote a lot of this while watching the Bruins v. Blackhawks game.
> 
> Possible triggers, so beware.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated!

The harsh lights of the bar were close to setting Michael’s brain ablaze. He drained the last of his beer and stood.

                “See you guys later,” he called to the rest of the Achievement Hunter staff, and Griffon, the designated driver, perched on Geoff’s lap. “I’m gonna head home.”

                “Do you need a ride?” Jack asked.

                “Nah, I can walk. S’not that far.”

                “Y’better be at work tomorrow,” Geoff said, his words slurred with whiskey. “No fuckin’ excuses.”

                “Bye-bye, little Michael.” Gavin grinned and waved.

                Michael smiled and stumbled out the door.

\--

                With heavy steps he made his way down the sidewalk to his apartment. It was late, around two, and the streets were nearly empty except for a few cars and inebriated stragglers.

                Michael hummed a song they had sung in the Let’s Play they had filmed earlier that afternoon, oblivious to the world. somewhere behind him, a man coughed, but he thought nothing of it. His bed beckoned.

                He was a bit surprised, however, when footsteps other than his own followed him his normal route home. About a quarter-mile from his apartment, Michael heard the steps speed up behind him, and before he could turn, a hand covered his mouth and pulled him back against a hard chest and an arm held him tight. Panic overtook him, and cursing, he tried to break free.

                _Fuck what the fucking shit oh my god_

His shouts were muffled by the man’s fingers. He kicked and flailed in vain as his attacker pulled him away from the open street into an alleyway and around a corner, where he threw Michael to his knees and pointed a gun at his head.

                “Don’t you fucking scream.” The man’s gruff words barely registered in Michael’s brain, so muddled was he with feelings: anger and fear and nausea that struck him dumb and widened his eyes as his gaze rested upon the glinting barrel. He dared not move as the man grabbed him by the back of the neck and shoved his head to the ground, knocking off his glasses.

                Michael found his voice, small and weak as it was. “Please, don’t… please –“

                “Shut the fuck up,” the stranger commanded sharply, then softer: “Be a good boy and stay still and quiet.”

                Michael fell silent and limp as his jeans were yanked about his knees.

 

                The following minutes were a blur of agony. Michael felt like he was being repeatedly stabbed by a fiery blade, and tears ran from his eyes, but he did not make a sound. He trembled and focused on the constant scraping of his forehead and knees and elbows on the rough and dirtied asphalt instead of the pain from behind. His mind was blank, aside from _I should have accepted Jack’s offer._

\--

                Michael didn’t know how long he had lain in that alleyway after it was over. At some point he had got back to his feet, pulled up his pants, and trudged up to his place. His movements were robotic as he locked the door and placed the keys on the counter.

                _Dirty._

Yes, he was dirty.

                He pulled off his clothes, ignoring the pain and the dried blood that trailed down his leg, and turned the shower up to a blistering temperature, and beneath the spray he stood, staring at the white wall in front of him.

                _Tired._

So very tired.

                And the shower floor looked so inviting.

                He curled up on the slick plastic as the scalding water pounded his side.

\--

Michael woke only when the hot water ran out. He rose on shaky knees and scrabbled for the temperature control and turned off the water. His skin was rough with goose bumps.

                It was Monday. _Work,_ Michael thought wearily. His head pounded from his hangover and his body was numbed by cold. Last night was fuzzy.

                A couple aspirin from his medicine cabinet helped.  Michael wandered into his room with a towel around his waist and grabbed the first clean shirt and jeans he saw. He felt a bit better dressed and clean, but the base of his spine felt stiff and sore.

                _Oh, yeah. That happened._

                He didn’t feel like eating. There were three missed calls and two text messages from Lindsay sent around midnight, but he didn’t bother reading them. Things had been kind of tense between them for a couple of weeks now, and his girlfriend was the last person Michael wanted to talk to.

                The ride from his apartment to the office proved uneventful, and he arrived more than half an hour early than he normally did. He sat in his car for a while, staring into space and alone with his cloudy thoughts.

                He was still the first into the Achievement Hunter office despite waiting in the car. He spun back and forth in his swivel chair until Jack came in.

                “Hey, did you get home okay?” he asked, settling into his own chair.

                Michael tensed. “Y-yeah…” he managed. His backside throbbed.

                Jack furrowed his brow. “You okay? You seem off.”

                “I’m fine,” responded Michael quickly. “Hungover, is all.” _I should have gone with you. I would have been safe._

By then, Gavin and Geoff had ambled in, then Ryan and Ray a few minutes later. While the other five discussed the day’s Let’s Play, Michael remained silent, staring into space. His head was muddied with the ghosts of the night before.

                “—ichael? Michael, what’s up with you?”

                “What…?” Gavin’s voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. The Brit was eyeing him curiously, a frown on his lips.

                “You’re unusually quiet. Something eating you?”

                _That fucking bastard from last night._ He shuddered. “I, uh… I think I’m coming down with something. Sore throat.”

                “Okay, Michael…” Gavin didn’t seem convinced, but turned to Geoff all the same.

                Michael tried to seem as normal as possible while they played. He was still less talkative, but he managed to get in a few yells and a fair amount of cursing. His playing was below his average caliber, but no one seemed to notice.

                He was relieved when they paused for lunch. Even though he didn’t want to eat, he followed Ray, Geoff, and Gavin to the Roaring Fork while Ryan and Jack went elsewhere. The conversation helped distract him. He sipped his coke and flashed a few smiles when Ray and Geoff began bantering about _Saint’s Row_. His mind was quieting.

                Perhaps normalcy could be returned to Michael’s life once again. 


	2. The wreckage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, lads, it's been a while. I apologize for the wait; I was both without a laptop and without motivation. And I got a job. The real world blows.
> 
> And thanks for all the love! R'hllor knows, I don't get enough.
> 
> And I hope these aren't too short...

Work life became easier for Michael. As long as he kept his scabbed scrapes hidden with beanies and long sleeves, there was little for the others to be suspicious of. As the days passed, his mannerisms returned to their former robust spirit. Gavin and Ray, concerned before, relaxed when Michael’s energy returned.

 

Home, however, was a different story. When his friends were around, Michael could smile and laugh like before; but alone, whether it was in public or at his apartment, unease haunted him. The Tuesday after his ordeal, Michael was bullied into going to get take out for the AH staff, and he insisted Ryan come with him. “So I don’t have to carry everything,” Michael had claimed. _So I don’t get taken again_.

 Sleep didn’t come easy. Michael was reluctant to close his eyes. Every sound made him jump, and living in a city didn't guarentee quiet nights. His dreams were plagued with his face, the half-grin and the gun, the voice Michael didn't posess and his hesitance over speaking the truth to anyone.

 And oh, how he yearned to tell them-- his coworkers, his friends, those who he trusted most-- but he was afraid. They may pity him, treat him like he was a little girl who needed protection, or think he was weak for not being able to fight the bastard off. And the minutes slipped by with his courage. Michael was a pen without a cap: exposed, naked, with so much to say before time dried up his resolve.

 --

 By Friday, Michael's firey temper was neary back to full capacity. The six Hunters, settled in their swivel chairs after a lovely lunch, glared at their screens as their thumbs flew over their controllers. They were filming a new Minecraft Let's Play, a game of Geoff and Gavin's creation, and the battle for the Tower of Pimps was as heated as ever. Michael was mere seconds away from overtaking Ray.

 "Ohh, shit! Aggro wolf on Michael's ass; will he manage to come out on top?!" Geoff exclaimed, hovering over Michael's avatar as he commentated, "Will Ray keep the Tower for the third week in a row, or will Michael snatch victory from the Peurto Rican jaws of defeat?! That wolf looks hungry!"

 The chourus of "Hungry Like the Wolf" was immediately murmured by Gavin.

 "Fuck, fuck, FUCK! No, no, nononono..." Low on food, Michael sprinted through the woods of Achievement City, jumping forward as the wolf nipped his back.

 "Ray, approaching the finish line!" Geoff shouted. "Gavin, as always, dead fucking last! Ryan in fourth! Jack in third! Michael getting raped in the asshole by a seriously pissed off wolf!"

 The world froze for Michael. His controller fell to his lap, and the wolf killed him, his gubbins exploding from his virtual body.

 "Ohh! Michael is _down_ , so close to the end!"

 Michael's stare bored into the surface of his desk. He could smell the cheap booze on his breath, hear their ragged breathing, taste the blood from his bitten tongue and the tears streaming from his cheeks, feel the phantom scrape of alphault against his arms. His pulse was deafening, and his stomach churned.

 He bolted from the room, questioninging calls following him as he stumbled into the bathroom. He managed to reach a toilet before he vomited.

 The bathroom door banged open. "Michael? Michael, are you okay?" Gavin rushed to his friend and crouched down, placing a hand on his back. 

 Michael convulsed violently as he was touched, gasping then coughing as more bile threatened to fight its way up.

 "Shhh, shhh..." Gavin soothed. his hand rubbed circles over Michael's tensed muscles. "It's just me, it's Gavin, it's okay, Michael..." He carefully reached around and pulled the vomit-spattered glasses from  Michael's face.

 Michael heaved a few more times into the bowl, his stomach now completely empty. He wiped his mouth and eyes and flushed his lunch down. Gavin helped him to his feet, fighting his own hair-trigger gag reflex.

 Michael's beanie was askew. Gavin pulled it off, revealing the scrapes hidden beneath. He stared, his expression jumping from confusion to shock to sadness as everything made sense. "I'd wondered what'd gotten into you," he muttered. 

 Michael said nothing. 

 "Well, let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

 Michael let Gavin remove his dirtied sweatshirt, uncovering his scratched-up arms. The Brit wet a paper towel, wiping the sweat from Michael's brow then cleaning his glasses and handing them back to him. Michael hastily put them on.

 "When did it happen?"

 Michael stiffened. _It_.

 "Was it after we went out for bevs on sunday?" Gavin asked softly.

 Michael raised his gaze to Gavin, his eyes brimming with fresh tears. He abruptly threw his arms around Gavin, burying his face in his shoulder.

 "H-how...?" he sobbed.

 Gavin sighed sadly and returned the embrace. "Back in England, a friend of Dan's was... well, you're acting a lot like she did."

 They stood together for a few minutes until Michael stopped weeping and his breaths became more even. Gavin pulled away, touching Michael's shoulder. "You should go home, Michael."

 "But I can't just--"

 "You need some time away. Let me talk to Geoff." He began to turn.

 "Gavin--" Michael grabbed Gavin's arm. His friend stopped and looked back at him. "I... will you stay with me?" he asked, borderline-frantic.

 Gavin smiled. "Of course, Michael. Whatever you need. Now go to your car, I'll be along in a minute."

 Michael himself almost smiled. He hurried from the bathroom toward the parking lot.

 Gavin went in the other direction. The door to the Achivement Hunter office was still open, and he popped his head inside. "Geoff? Can I talk to you for a sec?"

 Geoff grunted an affirmative and disentangled himself from his headset and controller, then stepped outside with Gavin and closed the door. "What's up? Is Michael okay?"

 "Well, uh... Michael needs time off, and I'm going to look after him."

 "Sure, I guess. How many days?"

 "Umm... a couple weeks, maybe less...?"

 "A couple weeks? No fucking way!" Geoff crossed his arms. "You know Michael, being sick won't stop him coming in. And you don't need to be his fucking nurse!"

 "Geoff," Gavin said quietly, "Michael was _raped_."

 Geoff let out a bark of laughter. "Yeah, right." When Gavin's expression remained grim, he uncrossed his arms. "Wait... you're serious?"

 Gavin nodded.

 "Then he ran off because I said..." Geoff covered his mouth and looked to the floor. "Shit, dude, I didn't mean to--"

 "It's okay, you didn't know," Gavin said. "It's probably best someone found out anyways. S'not good to keep that sort of thing inside."

 "Well... yeah, he can take as much time as he needs," said Geoff. "God, if there's anything I can do..."

 "Make up a story for the others. They don't need to know just yet." Gavin flashed a smile. "And bring over some of my clothes later. And some food; I don't know how stocked Michael's kitchen will be." 

 "Yeah, of course."

 "Thanks, Geoff." Gavin turned and strode toward the exit.


	3. The flood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote half of this in a crowd in Copley square, waiting for Panic! at the Disco to play. You guys just inspire me so.
> 
> Called in to work today; feel kinda shitty about that. Plus I should be sleeping right now, considering I have to suit up and sling burgers for six hours bright and early. 
> 
> That being said, your comments and kudos spurred me on. Your words are my fuel! They do wonders for my self-esteem!
> 
> Thank you, everyone. I don't think I've posted anything so fast since I was writing shitty second-person Naruto fanfics back in the seventh grade. I'm a woman grown now, after four years. And though my dream career has shifted from author to foreign relations agent, words remain my first love. 
> 
> Well, except for Chris Prescott. He was a dream-boat, even at 11 years old.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for all the support. Kudos brighten my day, and comments wet my panties! And who doesn't love wet panties?

Driving back to Michael's apartment proved tedious. Gavin insisted upon driving, worried Michael wasn't in a stable state of mind, and to his surprise, Michael surrendered his keys. A ride that should have taken fifteen minutes took well over thirty. Gavin sat stark-upright, staring at the road before him. Geoff had given him a few lessons since he came to live permanently in the US, but his pace was still slow and his grip on the wheel was tight and white-knuckled. Michael just stared out the window.

Gavin was unsure of his next move. Never before had he seen his friend so quiet and defeated. Gavin was unnerved by Michael’s mindset: uncaring and secluded, pessimism laced with anxiety. He was worried and sad, but most of all, he was angry. Michael didn't deserve this. No one deserved this. He just wanted so very badly to find the bastard that hurt Michael and hurt him back. Perhaps even kill him, if Michael’s condition worsened. Gavin was seething, but he couldn't let Michael see that. He needed to stay calm, for Michael. He needed to rehabilitate his friend.

_But how?_

He had broken the dam, and now Michael was drowning.

It was nearly four when Gavin carefully pulled into the apartment parking lot. He killed the engine and looked to Michael. "Come on, now." Gavin stepped from the car and quickly walked around to Michael’s side to open the door for him.

Michael slowly got out and followed Gavin to his apartment. Gavin locked the door after Michael shuffled inside. He smiled. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and into something comfy?"

Michael noddle wordlessly and trudged to his room, closing the door behind him.

Gavin sat down on Michael's leather couch and pulled his laptop from his bag.

_Oh, please be on..._

 

> >GavFree: hey you there?

 

Halfway across the planet, in Afghanistan, Dan Gruchy's laptop pinged.

Gavin received a reply after a minute.

 

> >DanG: gav, you know i love you but it's almost 12 over here. lights out in 5. talk quick.
> 
> >GavFree: ok
> 
> >GavFree: remember when lizzie was attacked last year?
> 
> >DanG: of course, why?

 

Gavin sighed and rubbed his eyes.

 

> >GavFree: well... michael was too
> 
> >DanG: what? when?
> 
> >GavFree: sunday
> 
> >DanG: jesus that's awful
> 
> >GavFree: so i need advice
> 
> >GavFree: what should i do? i'm staying with him for a while
> 
> >DanG: hmm
> 
> >DanG: lizzie talked to me a lot. michael may want to too. listen to him. don't interrupt
> 
> >DanG: like
> 
> >DanG: from now on michael is the bloody queen
> 
> >DanG: you do whatever he wants. make his favourite foods and watch whatever he likes.
> 
> >DanG: he might not want to sleep. stay up with him
> 
> >DanG: i gtg. i'll check in tomorrow. good luck mate
> 
> >GavFree: thanks dan. sleep tight.

 

The green circle next to Dan's name blinked out. Gavin shut off his laptop and stood, deciding to take a look at Michael’s food situation.

As he expected, the rations were sparse. The fridge contained a quarter-jug of milk (close to expiration), left-over pizza from Sunday afternoon, a few eggs, a bag of shredded cheese, half a jar of pasta sauce, and a dozen bottles of beer. Frozen veggies and a half-tub of chocolate ice cream in the freezer, a couple of boxes of cereal and crackers and other snacks in the cabinets, a bowl of ripe bananas and apples on the counter. It looked like nothing had been touched in a while.

_Oh, Michael... this isn’t you..._

Gavin was pulled from his thoughts by a knock at the door. He opened it to find Geoff laden with a duffel bag and several bags of groceries.

"Geoff," Gavin said with a smile, "you didn't have to get that much."

"I wanted to, after setting him off like that..." Geoff entered and set the bags on the counter. "Your clothes and toiletries," he said, indicating the duffel, "and enough food to last you a while."

"Thanks, Geoff. I really--" Gavin cut himself off when he heard the bedroom door creak open. Michael stood in the doorway, wearing a plain undershirt and plaid pajama bottoms. The clothes hung loosely about his frame. _He’s lost weight_ , Gavin noted.

Geoff looked at him, guilt plain upon his face. "Hey, buddy," he said softly. "I’m really sorry about earlier, I didn't--"

"It’s okay." Michael’s voice was a bit hoarse from crying. "Don’t worry about it."

Geoff tried to smile at him, and then addressed Gavin. "Take good care of him. You need anything, just call me."

"Okay. Thank you, Geoff." Gavin smiled. "Email me any work you need done."

Geoff nodded and threw another sorry glance Michael’s way. He looked tired. "I’ll see you guys later."

After he left, Gavin went through the food he had brought: a couple bags of chips, a box of pasta, fresh fruit and vegetables, orange juice, bread, a steak, hotdogs and other deli meats. At the bottom of one bag, Gavin even found a box of his favorite state-side tea. ("It’s rubbish compared to anything across the pond," he had told Geoff, "but it's the best of the rubbish.")

Michael had turned on the TV and was staring blankly at the screen. Gavin recognized the voices from _Adventure Time._

He looked at the stove clock. It was almost 5:30. “Michael, you hungry?”

Michael shook his head _no_ without looking up. Gavin decided Michael should eat anyways, and he himself was a bit peckish besides. A home-cooked meal would do Michael good, a change to the fast-food and energy drinks he was always consuming. _Well, before all this happened._

After a while, he settled on spaghetti and meat sauce. He set water to boil and starting cooking ground beef for the sauce. Michael loved almost anything Italian and everything to do with meat. And the extra carbs would do him good. Gavin hoped he wouldn’t burn anything.

\--

As Gavin toiled in the kitchen, Michael turned to his festering thoughts. Ever since his episode at the office, the events of Sunday night occupied his thoughts. It was like a marathon-viewing, with everything in extremely sharp detail. And it was almost worse this time around. When Michael had finally made it home, his mind had sufficiently bound up what happened with chains and locked it in a steel box and threw away the keys. He was numb, his mind foggy and unfocused, and everything was robotic. And at work, he was always preoccupied with a project or a conversation with one of the guys. Even at home, he didn’t think much about it; his reactions to things associated with that night—a shadow, for instance, or a sound with an unknown origin, was automatic, accompanied with a feeling like déjà vu. His dreams were the only thing that recalled anything from that night, but Michael was never very good at remembering dreams.

Michael knew what happened, but it was almost like it had happened to someone else, that it didn’t affect him.

But Geoff had ruined that.

Michael knew he had meant no harm, that they always made insensitive comments during videos or podcasts or even when they were just hanging out. They never really acknowledged their words as wrong. They were selfish.

But he hated Geoff. He hated that he had found the keys and unlocked the steel box and chains and let loose everything that he had been trying to repress. He hated himself for reacting so badly, and in front of his _friends_ , no less. He hated the bastard that brought him so low, made him feel so dirty and worthless and weak. It was in his head, buzzing like bees, and every time he tried to push the thoughts out, another aspect of that night suddenly stood out in stark contrast, and he relived it over and over again with higher definition. The ghosts had found him, and would keep haunting forever.

And he hated Gavin. Gavin, the stupid Brit that had seen through his mask and reacted immediately with such sweetness and compassion that it made Michael feel like he was in one of the chick flicks Lindsay was addicted to. He hated that he had nearly _begged_ for Gavin to stay with him, the fear and weakness he had shown to another man. He hated that he was now being treated like a child.

“I’m _not_ a fucking child,” he muttered unconciously.

Gavin poked his head around the corner. “What’s that, Michael?”

“Nothing.”


	4. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, mein lieblings. It's pi in the morning, and I'm not sleeping, as usual. Ain't no rest for the wicked.
> 
> Quit tae kwon do today. I feel shitty about partially severing the nine-year-long relationship I had with sensei and the dojang (and right after obtaining my black belt!), but between work and senior year, I wouldn't be able to attend class consistently. He assured me that I was always welcome to train any time I like. I cried, even though I told myself I wouldn't.
> 
> Sensei is a good man.
> 
> On a lighter note, I have something new in the works, though it probably won't be a multi-chapter piece. Just one big-ass story. I aim to post it either by Friday, or whilst I'm up at Niagara falls. If there isn't any fucking wifi at the hotel, I'll sacrifice my sister to Satan and post it when I get home. Expect a lengthy installment of this story as well.
> 
> This chapter took a bit of a different turn than I'd anticipated. I'd plan to do this one scene, then do the fall-out the next chapter, but I rather like how this one ended up cutting off, so swagever. I am the God here, aren't I?
> 
> Also got flipped off twice today whilst driving. Fuck you, bikers. I know where you live. Kinda.
> 
> Comments appease the red god R'hllor!

The pasta was good. After a few minutes of nagging and shoving of plates Michael finally gave in.

“Fine. But I bet it’s fucking disgusting.” But for once, Gavin managed to pull through.

Michael didn’t have enough in Gavin’s opinion, but he didn’t want to push him. He could see Michael was getting worse. Sometimes he would mutter to himself, and his expression would sometimes flash with anger. Gavin was no shrink, nor a mind-reader, but he could tell something had changed since yesterday.

The Brit put the kettle on and then started on the dishes. He usually took his tea at four, as was tradition. Any later, and the caffeine would make it hard to sleep. Today was an exception. He had to take care of Michael, and staying up all night seemed a necessity.

It was seven. Gavin brought his Earl Grey to the couch, the tea snug in a tall mug he had stashed at Michael’s flat (“Just in case.”). Settled beside Michael, he finally began to relax. His stress level had only risen as the hours passed, and copious stress made him nauseous—hell, what didn’t?—and he didn’t want to end up puking when Michael was in such dire need of company. He didn’t want Michael to see how scared he really was.

Christ, he was terrified.

One always hears of rape victims committing suicide or turning to self-harm. Gavin feared Michael would, too, become another cliché. _Not Michael,_ he tried to tell himself, _Michael is strong. He’ll carry on, of course he will._ But seeing him so defeated forced Gavin to think otherwise.

\--

As Dan had predicted, Michael didn’t sleep. He kept his eyes glued to the screen as _Regular Show_ became _Teen Titans Go!_ , as _Teen Titans Go!_ became _Cartoon Planet_ (a show of which Gavin had never before heard of). _King of the Hill, American Dad, Family Guy._ It was a miracle there were no jokes or comments pertaining to rape.

The shows paraded on, but Michael seemed to take nothing in. He just stared, his glasses mirroring the images on screen. Gavin often watched his friend from the corner of his eye. Sometimes his face would stray from the passive mask: a furrowed brow, flared nostrils, an open mouth as if to speak. But he never spoke. And Gavin was too much a coward to try and talk to him, scared he may drive Michael even farther away.

Night bled into early morning, and after hours of cartoons and multiple cups of Earl Grey, the sun summoned another Saturday.

Gavin had pulled plenty of all-nighters before—drinking with the Hunters, gaming with Geoff. But he had been engaged in something, not staring mindlessly at a television, alone with his thoughts and a shell of a friend. He found himself straining to stay awake, but he managed, for Michael’s sake. And he knew once the room was bright again it would be impossible for him to sleep, and all would be well until the next night. _Tea and energy drinks._ He’ll probably have pissed his bodyweight by Sunday morning.

At around 6:30 he gave into his hunger and trudged to the kitchen to start breakfast.

Half an hour and much cursing later, Gavin presented Michael with a cheese and pepper omlette (only a little burned!), a considerable amount of bacon, some toast, and coffee (dark, with a little sugar, just like Michael liked it).

“Eat up, Michael. Most important meal of the day.”

“M’not hungry.”

“Sure you are. Come on, look at all that bacon.”

“No.”

“Michael…” Gavin sat down facing Michael, plate and cup in hand. “You have to eat. It’s not healthy.”

“So what?”

“So, you’ve lost too much weight. You’ll feel better with something in your belly.”

“It won’t make a difference.”

“Michael, please.”

“No.”

“Michael—“

“I said fucking _no_ , Gavin!” Michael shoved Gavin away. The food fell to the floor, but the scalding coffee spilled all over Michael’s arms and legs. “Mother _fucker_!” he shrieked, jumping to his feet and shaking his arms.

Gavin stood quickly. “I’m so sorry, Michael!” He grabbed Michael’s elbows and pulled him to the kitchen, where he turned the sink on cold and used the spray hose to cool down his arms. He ran his hands gently over the burns, feeling the heat coming from Michael’s skin and the scabs from that night. He judged it wasn’t too bad, and his legs were okay, that the fabric of his pajamas had protected them.

Michael had tears in his eyes. Gavin saw them but said nothing.

After a few minutes of cold water, the redness seemed to fade a bit. Gavin turned off the water. “Go shower. I’ll clean that,” he said, indicating the mess on the couch.

Michael’s lip quivered. The tears threatened to overflow, and he looked to Gavin meekly.

_Mood swings._

Michael shuffled forward and rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder and gripped the back of his shirt. “I… I didn’t—“

“No, Michael,” Gavin folded his arms around Michael and placed his cheek against his brown curls. “You don’t need to apologize. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Michael shook his head against Gavin’s teeshirt.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gavin soothed, petting Michael’s hair. He could feel vibrations from shuddering breaths and the wet heat of tears. Gavin rocked them back and forth.

Michael disentangled himself after a while and rubbed the tears from his eyes. He turned and stumbled to his bathroom and to the shower.

Gavin sighed when he heard the shower start. He took a bite of his own cold omlette and set to work cleaning the ruined breakfast on the carpet.

\--

Michael squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to the shower wall. The bees were buzzing louder, and pain in his arms stirred the ghosts in his head. He wept, masked by the water falling on his head.

He scrubbed the coffee from his body and got out soon after, donning a fresh change of clothes. He opened the door a crack and peered out into the living room. Gavin was on his hands and knees on the carpet, trying to get all the little bits of egg off the floor. Michael frowned.

**_He thinks you’re pathetic._ **

Michael felt a flash of anger. _Shut the fuck up, brain._

**_Don’t you fucking deny it. Look at him. He’s your bitch. You’re just using him._ **

_No._

**_And do you even deserve a bitch after you were made a bitch yourself? Pathetic, Michael. Weak._ **

_Fuck you._

**_You were the one that was fucked. And no amount of stringing that moron along will change that. You act tough, but then you break down and cry like a fucking baby and cling to him like he’s a security blanket._ **

Michael closed the door and leaned against the wall. _Stop it._

**_Or what? You’ll bitch-out again? He’s fucking coddling you. He knows what happened. He thinks you’re weak. He’ll never think of you the same ever again. You’re damaged goods. Dirty. Tainted. Not even Lindsay will treat you as a man. Your life will never return to normal. Ever._ **

“Shut up,” Michael whispered. He didn’t want to believe that, but every passing moment made him find truth in what the voice said. Gavin was a security blanket. Michael couldn’t keep this charade up forever.

But for now, he thought he could save face.

After a few minutes of collecting himself, Michael finally opened the door and left his room. Gavin had re-heated his portion of breakfast and was sitting on the coffee-scented couch with his laptop.

Michael sat next to him. It was almost eight.   _Johnny Test_ was giving way to _Beyblade._

Gavin looked up at him. “How’re your arms?”

Michael looked down at them. They still stung a bit, but the redness had dwindled and his skin was almost back to normal. “They’re fine,” he mumbled, trying not to make eye contact.

“Good.”

It was silent in the room, but for the sounds of the tv, for a while. Michael felt the sudden pangs of hunger and looked often to Gavin’s half-full plate. Gavin noticed and smiled. He stabbed a forkful of omlette and held it out to Michael.

Michael leaned forward to take a bite.

**_Babying._ **

Michael ignored the voice and let Gavin feed him the rest of his breakfast.


	5. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teaquence: Twinings Earl Grey, Adiago mango green, mint from my cousin Christian, Teavanna Earl Grey.
> 
> That list would be longer had I stayed downstairs.
> 
> Hello, lads and gents. Here y'go. I'm typing on my mum's laptop. It's wicked weird. I had to give Kyle (my laptop) to Best Buy because it wasn't cooperating (when does it ever?). I'm getting a replacement when I get back, but for now, I'm stuck with mum's computer. I think she has a name... Helga? Heidi? Who the fuck knows...
> 
> Wore a dress in public for the first time in years yesterday. Julia (my little sister), Kyle (my bestie), and I went to Plymouth for sushi and ice cream and we walked around the waterfront. It was nice-- not for my thighs, though. Chafe city.
> 
> Still working on the other story (code name: ETF. What does that mean?! Ooh, the suspense!). I'm not going to say anything except that it's another Rooster Teeth one. I've got, like, two others planned as well. Christ, this is gonna be rough.
> 
> So, yeah. I hate my writing style. But thank you, writing playlist. You are my rock. Except when the wifi is shitty.
> 
> 'Holding on to You' by Twenty One Pilots is currently playing. One of my two almost-soul songs. My soul song came on the radio earlier today, but the Shuffle Gods decided not to bless my ears now. Swagever. R'hllor is better anyways.
> 
> Thanks for all the love and praise! I feel like a toddler who managed to use the potty before shitting my pants! Comments help keep my panties clean, my friends. <3

Saturday bore on.

Gavin found himself nodding off every so often, but he kept chugging his tea. He even spiked it with Red Bull. He needed caffeine. He had to get up to piss every twenty minutes, like clockwork.

Michael kept his eyes focused on the cartoons. His arms were wrapped around his knees. One hand clutched an energy drink.

He never moved, except to use the bathroom. At one point he changed the TV from Cartoon Network to Nickelodeon. _Scooby-Doo_  to _Fairly Odd Parents._ Then back.

Silence. Gavin glanced frequently at Michael’s rounded profile. He edited with only one earbud in, in case Michael wanted to talk. But he didn’t.

Gavin pieced together the Minecraft Let’s Play of the day before. His explanation for his and Michael’s absence at the end was that their audio and visual stopped working. Somehow, he made it look normal.

As if nothing had disrupted it.

\--

Gavin looked to Michael’s bedroom door with concern. Half an hour ago, Michael had risen and disappeared into the bathroom. Then came the sound of the tub being filled.

Unease stirred within Gavin. Rape victims often felt the need to bathe excessively. Michael was becoming a stereotype.

He wasn’t fighting. Or, at least, that’s how it appeared to Gavin.

_Ping._

He minimized the editing software window. Dan wanted to chat.

> >DanG: how is he?
> 
> >GavFree: i don’t know, mate. he’s in the bath.
> 
> >DanG: so youre alone?
> 
> >GavFree: yeah

A moment later Skype informed Gavin of an incoming video call. He accepted.

Dan looked tired. He was reclined in his bunk with his laptop against his knees. His dogtags glinted in the fluorescent barrack light.

“Hey, Dan.”

“Gav.”

Gavin gave a sad smile. He hadn’t seen his friend’s face for weeks, and each time they video chatted, Dan looked more and more alien to him. Perhaps that’s what war did to a person.

“How is it over there?” he asked.

“Hot,” Dan replied with a groan. “And lugging around a thousand kilos of equipment doesn’t help.”

“That blows.”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a few seconds, just studying each other’s faces. There were bags under Gavin’s eyes, and his hair was disheveled. The lines on Dan’s forehead and around his mouth had darkened since the last time they’d seen each other. His dark hair was buzzed short.

Gavin missed Dan so much. And he knew Dan felt the same way.

Dan spoke: “So he’s in the tub?”

“Yeah,” Gavin muttered. “And he took a shower this morning too.”

Dan nodded. “Lizzie did that too.”

“Dan… I’m scared. It looks like he’s just given up, and I feel like I can’t do bugger-all to help him.”

“How long has he been in there?”

“Since half-past. Forty-five minutes or so.”

“Go check on him.”

Gavin obeyed. He put the laptop on the couch and made his way to the bathroom. He knocked softly. “Michael?”

He received no answer. Fear spiked once more. He opened the door a crack.

Michael lay in the water, staring at the ceiling above him. _Still alive._

He grimaced, angry at himself. _Of course he’s still alive, idiot. Michael would never do something like that._

Gavin closed the door carefully and returned to Dan.

“He’s fine.”

“Good. Try not to leave him alone.”

Gavin felt his stomach drop. “You… you think he’ll try something?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Lizzie was full of piss and vinegar herself, and I still had to keep an eye on her.”

Gavin groaned and scrubbed his face with hands. “Dan… I just dunno what to do…” he mumbled through his hands. “Even if he’s an arse fifty percent of the time, he's one of my best friends. But I can’t do a sodding thing to help him. It’s driving me mental.”

“I feel you, Gav,” Dan sighed, “But you have to be strong. In the end, he can only help himself. You just need to be there for him if he needs you.”

“I guess…”

“What’s he been doing?”

“Just watching the telly. I got him to eat again, though.”

Dan smiled. “See? You _are_ helping him.”

“But that’s all he does. He doesn’t talk. Just watches ’toons.”

“You should engage him. Play some video games or something. Something to really concentrate on.”

“Okay.”

“And Gav?”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to fall asleep.”

\--

Eventually, Michael emerged from his room. Gavin had _Left 4 Dead 2_ and a grilled ham-and-cheese waiting for him. Gavin smiled when Michael sat beside him and immediately started eating.

_One small victory, then._

After he was done with his sandwich, Gavin handed him a controller. “Thanks,” Michael murmured. And Gavin smiled some more.

Gavin noticed a change in Michael soon after they started playing. Michael was focused completely on the game, not mindlessly staring at the screen like he was when he was watching cartoons. He even made little reaction sounds and swore when he got swarmed by zombies. And once in a while, a grin graced his face.

“Gavin, quit playing with your wee-wee and help me!”

“I’m coming, my little Michael,” Gavin called. He was glad he picked a co-op game.

“Fuckin’ _owned_ , bitch,” Michael laughed as he no-scoped a Boomer. Gavin felt warmth spread through his body.

_There’s my boy._

\--

They played through the entire campaign, then halfway through the DLCs. Michael radiated life, and Gavin fed off his energy, tired as he was.

“God _dammit_ ,” Gavin complained when Michael (Francis) shot him. “Michael, quit it! I’m almost dead!”

“Serves you right for throwing me to the horde,” Michael replied with a vicious smile.

“But _Mi_ chael, I didn’t—”

_Knock knock._

Michael snapped his head up to look at the door. Then he looked at Gavin, smile gone.

“Relax, Michael,” Gavin soothed. “It’s probably just Geoff.”

_Knock knock knock knock._ “Michael?”

Oh. Lindsay.

Michael paled. He stood and nearly ran for his bedroom, and closed the door.

\--

From inside the bedroom, Michael could hear Gavin stand and get the door. He sat against the door with his head against his knees.

“Where’s Michael?”

Oh, the ghosts were back.

“He, uhh… he can’t talk.” Gavin.

“The hell do you mean? He hasn’t talked to me since last Thursday.”

_True._

“Lindsay, this really isn’t a good time—“

“Why? Did I interrupt your fucking pajama party?”

“No, it’s just… under the circumstances—“

“What circumstances?”

Michael’s brain caught fire.

Through the flames, he heard Gavin sigh. “I, um, I can’t tell you.”

He could feel Lindsay’s anger from through the door. “Why the hell not?”

“I just can’t.”

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t justify him ignoring me for over a week.”

“Lindsay, he needs some time—“

“Why are _you_ here anyways?”

Gavin didn’t say anything.

“Whatever. You can go back to fucking or whatever you were doing, but tell him I’m sick of this. Tell him ‘go to hell’ from me. We’re done.”

She slammed the door behind her. Michael winced.

**_Look at what you did, Michael. And she was probably the only person that would have you. You’re pathetic._ **

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep from crying. _Shut up._

**_Might as well end it now. Without her, you can’t hope to have an even remotely normal life._ **

_Stop…_

**_You’ve gone and fucked up big-time, kid._ **

_Stop stop stop STOP STOP STOP_

Michael pounded his forehead against his knees until the pain drove the ghosts away.

\--

Gavin sighed sadly after Lindsay left. _That’s not fair at all._

He tried not to be angry at Lindsay. She hadn’t known, after all. But Gavin couldn’t help but feel bitterness towards her. She may’ve driven Michael even closer to the edge with their break-up.

Michael stood in the doorway of his bedroom. “You okay?” Gavin asked softly.

His eyes were glassy with what Gavin could only assume were tears. “Yeah,” Michael said. “I’ve been meaning to break it off with her for a while, so… saved me the trouble, right?” He smiled, but it looked forced.

Gavin returned the fake smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We gonna keep playing?”

“Whatever you like.”

\--

And so they played. After they finished with _Left 4 Dead,_ they played _Castle Crashers_ and _Halo_. Michael still played very well, and communicated with Gavin when needed, but Gavin could tell that the spark from earlier had left him.

When they grew tired of video games (or, rather, when Michael put down his controller; Gavin was willing to play forever if Michael wanted to), Netflix was summoned. They began _The Expendables2_ at seven, and when that ended, they watched _Ferris Bueller’s Day Off._

Michael laughed when laughter was expected, but the laughs were quiet and short. _Fake._

Tea, Red Bull, Coke. The diuretics had Gavin constantly getting up, the sugar had him wired. He felt electric and tired and queasy all at once, but he fought the feelings for Michael.

\--

Somewhere between Adam Sandler movies, Gavin finally nodded off.  He didn’t know he had even done it until he was jolted awake. He squinted at the clock. _3:49._

He wondered what had waked him. It was quiet in the apartment, except for the soft music of movie credits. He could hear an owl outside.

He squinted in the dim light, trying to make out the span of couch next to him.

“Michael?” he whispered. He crawled closer to Michael’s end. He wasn’t there.

_Probably in the bathroom,_ Gavin thought.

Then he heard a muted noise of discomfort and the clatter of steel against tile.


	6. Surrender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems the proximity to Canada has done wonders for my writer's block. Seriously, my brain is pumping out ideas like the English teachers at my school pump out babies. ETF in the works, and many more to come!
> 
> Here on out is gonna get a bit difficult. I'd planned quite thoroughly through this part, and perhaps one part in the future, but it'll be a pain in the ass to keep up the pace. Please don't get mad!
> 
> Lying on a fold-out, and my sister is pressed up against my leg. Jesus Christ, she doesn't know how to stay on her side...  
> Ugh, I'm glad we're going back home tomorrow. Sunday sushi and Shaun of the Dead with Kyle. Can't wait!
> 
> Once more, no soul song :c One semi-soul-song, though. So, meh. 
> 
> If some of you guys are the type that listen to music whilst reading, two songs that heavily influenced this chapter (hell, this whole story) are Amsterdam (Live 2003) and Warning Sign by Coldplay. 
> 
> Comments make me forget my own ghosts! Speaking of which, I need to go take my meds...
> 
> Quotes (c) Happy Gilmore
> 
> And oh gosh, I hope I'm not being cliche-y D:

_“You little son of a bitch ball! Why you don't you just go home? That's your HOME! Are you too good for your HOME? ANSWER ME! SUCK MY WHITE ASS, BALL!”_

Michael wasn’t watching the screen. He was staring at the wall as the ghosts roiled around his brain.

Again, he felt the scraping on his forehead and knees, and burning from behind. The smell of whiskey was stronger than ever. The tears that fell from his tired eyes were identical to the ones that had forged a path down his cheeks that night. He could taste the salty liquid on his lips, cold compared to the blood of his bitten tongue.

_“You fucking play it where it lies! FUCK YOU!”_

His head pounded. He’d gotten up earlier to take some painkillers (twice the recommended dose), but they had yet to kick in. Or perhaps they had, but the ghosts were too strong.

**_You were so weak. You could have fought him off, but you just gave up and took it._ **

_Stop._

**_Took it like the bitch you are._ **

_Please…_

The ghosts had been quiet, until Lindsay showed up. When he and Gavin had been playing, Michael had been so absorbed with the game that nothing else held his focus—no ghosts, no memories. Just him and Gavin, playing like before.

And Gavin…

Michael felt safe when he could feel Gavin. His warmth. The ghosts were muted. But…

**_But you’re no fag. Or maybe you are, after what happened to you._ **

_Shut up._

**_And even if you got a stupid thought like having feelings for him in your head, he wouldn’t reciprocate. Even if he was into guys, why would he be into you? He’s seen you at your lowest. Even the most desperate person would turn you down._ **

_Shut_ up.

**_I mean, look at you. You haven’t slept in days. You’re crying like a little bitch. You’re falling apart at the seams, and Gavin’s_ asleep.**

Michael looked over to his friend. He was, indeed, asleep. Michael had watched his eyes fluttering for the past hour, but with the amount of caffeine Gavin had consumed, he had assumed he would last at least until morning.

When it got light, the ghosts settled a bit.

But it wasn’t light. The moon was covered by clouds, the windows by heavy curtains. The ghosts whirled around his memories, rifling through the files and constantly unlocking the box that held the events of that night. They threw them in Michael’s face again and again, taking  jackhammers to his brain and filling his skull with concrete.

**_He doesn’t care about you. He’s left you alone with your demons._ **

_He’s been up with me for two days. He deserves a break._

**_But_ you _don’t. Never you. You let yourself be dirtied._**

_He had a gun._

**_Well, your life was always worthless, wasn’t it? Why not put yourself out of your misery?_ **

_Shut the fuck up._

**_No Lindsay, no Gavin, no anyone. You’re too much of a pansy to tell Jack or Ray or Ryan, and Geoff heard from Gavin and now he thinks you’re a woman. A fucking dainty-ass woman._ **

_Stop it. Now._

**_You know how to make it stop, Michael._ **

Michael held his breath. The voices were right. He could end this. But…

_I don’t want to die._

**_What? You’re going to pansy out again? You little bitch. You know it’s never going to stop. It’ll follow you forever. And you’re already worthless, so why drag it out?_ **

_No…_

**_Yes. It’s the only way, Michael._ **

Michael glanced at Gavin. The shifting light of the TV and the tears in his eyes made it hard to see, but Gavin was still out cold. He snored softly. Even with the shadows playing across his face, Michael could see there were dark crescents under his eyes.

**_Haven’t you put him through enough?_ **

The voice sounded quieter, and the ghosts followed suit.

**_Give him a break. Give everyone a break. End it, Michael._ **

_Okay._

Michael wiped his eyes and got to his feet. He watched Gavin’s placid expression for a minute, taking in its serenity. He could smell Gavin, the faded cologne and his natural scent. He reached out and touched the Brit’s shoulder. Michael knew Gavin was a very heavy sleeper. He wouldn’t be up for a while.

By the time he woke, Michael would be out of his life forever, and Gavin could live without a burden.

Michael sniffed and tore his eyes from Gavin, fixing his gaze instead on the kitchen. He made his way around the island and stopped in front of the knife block.

 ** _Go ahead,_** the voice said soothingly. **_It’s time._**

Michael nodded to himself and pulled from the block one of his heavier chopping knives. The blade glinted in the light from the forgotten movie.

_“Who are you waving at, Happy?”_

_“Nobody, Grandma. Let’s go home.”_

Lynyrd Skynyrd played softly as Michael made the first cut into his left forearm. He was thankful he always kept his knives sharpened.

The blade carved a red divide between Link and Ganondorf. Michael felt a rush of relief as the pain reached his brain. The ghosts were receding.

The line began thin, and then grew as the blood welled to the surface. It streamed over Michael’s tattoos and dripped readily to the floor.

_That’s so much better._

He switched hands, and after a deep breath, sliced directly through the _Gears of War_ tattoo on his right arm. He sighed.

The ghosts were gone.

For a moment, at least.

All of a sudden, they flew back. Michael groaned and managed to get another cut into his right wrist before the pain hit him, and his hands began shaking so bad he dropped the knife.

“Michael?”

_Oh, fuck._

Michael’s legs gave way and he fell to the floor.

\--

Gavin heard the thud of knees on stone tile and shot to his feet. He rocketed into the kitchen and stopped short when he saw Michael sitting on the ground.

_Blood._

Even in the dark, it was visible—shiny and thick, covering Michael’s arms and staining his shirt and pants. And the smell…

Gavin swore and dropped to Michael. He pushed the knife behind him and tore off his own shirt, wrapping it around Michael’s arms. He held them tight.

Michael was sobbing. His glasses had fallen to the bloodied ground and lay forgotten beside him.

“Michael…” Gavin whispered. His eyes threatened tears as well.

Michael tried to wriggle free. “Gavin, lemme _go!”_ he shrieked.

“Why, Michael?” Gavin nearly yelled. “What the fuck were you thinking? You can’t do this, you bloody _idiot_!”

Michael kept struggling, so Gavin pulled him to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, keeping Michael’s bleeding wrists between them.

“ _Why_?”

Gavin realized how angry he was. Then he realized he wasn’t angry at Michael.

At that moment, Gavin hated himself. All that blood was his fault. He hadn’t watched Michael close enough, and he had fallen asleep despite Dan’s warning. If Michael died, it would be on him.

_YOU’RE the idiot._

Michael sobbed on.  He finally went limp in Gavin’s arms and pressed his face into his bare shoulder.

Gavin reached up and stroked Michael’s hair. He let the floodgates go, and he cried with Michael.

He felt so protective of Michael in that moment. Gavin wondered if he’d always felt this defensive. The feeling was familiar.

_He mustn’t die. I couldn’t take it._

But _why_ couldn’t he take it?

Michael balled his fists against Gavin’s chest. “Lemme go,” he whispered shakily.

“Why?”

“I need to finish it. Please, Gavin…” Michael’s breathing was ragged. “They’ll never leave me alone.”

Gavin’s arms tightened their hold on Michael. “Who won’t?”

“The ghosts.”

Gavin could hear the fear in Michael’s voice. _The memories,_ he realized.

“Michael,” he said, his voice strained with tears, “Michael, you _can’t_ do this.”

“But why not?” Michael wrenched his head away from Gavin’s shoulder and looked up at him with reddened eyes. “I’ll never be happy. I’ll always have… _that…_ on my mind. I’ve put you through too much. I don’t want to be in your way anymore. I have nothing. I don’t have Lindsay. I’m alone.”

“Michael, _listen_ to me,” Gavin said firmly. “You’ll _always_ have me. If I can help you, I’ll do whatever it takes. You’re not in my way. I want you to be _happy._ But hurting yourself won’t stop anything.”

“It’ll stop the voices.”

“Do you hear them now?”

Michael was quiet for a minute. “No…”

“Good, then.” Gavin rubbed the back of Michael’s neck and tried to smile. “Let’s try to keep it that way, yeah? _Without_ hurting yourself. I’ll do whatever you need me to. But we need to fix you up first.”

Gavin stood and pulled Michael up as well, catching his arms and keeping pressure on the cuts. There was blood on his chest, drying in the curly hairs, but he ignored the gritty feeling. It didn’t matter right now.

He guided Michael to the sink as he had before. After peeling his ruined shirt from the cuts, he found they weren’t as deep as he previously thought, and much cleaner besides. He thanked heaven Michael was always meticulously sharpening them, lest this could’ve been messier.

Again, he rinsed Michael’s arms, this time loosening the blood from the skin with his fingers, hushing Michael whenever he whimpered. Then with him, to the bathroom, Gavin had Michael sit on the edge of the tub as he perched on the closed toilet seat. It took many butterfly closures and yards of gauze and bandages before Gavin was satisfied and sent Michael back to his room to change into clean clothes.

Gavin tried to be calm and collected, but inside, his heart was breaking.

_Why, Michael? You’re better than this._

If someone as strong as Michael can be reduced to self-harm, Gavin couldn’t imagine the volume of pain he could be experiencing. And the “ghosts”, and the “voices”… Gavin’s tears had abated for now, but they were not far off.

Gavin hurriedly put the first-aid supplies away to join Michael. The frenzied fear he had seen in Michael’s eyes was gone as soon as he started cleaning him up, but then again…

_I thought he was okay once, and then this happened._

He wasn’t going to make that mistake twice. Dan had been right, and he had been careless.

Michael had finished changing by the time Gavin reached him. Sitting on his bed staring forlornly at the carpet, Michael was one of the saddest sights Gavin had ever seen. The Brit immediately went to his side and grabbed his bicep so they could see each other face-to-face.

Michael tried to look away. Gavin cupped a pale freckled cheek so he could see Michael’s glassy brown eyes. “Michael. Please, promise me you’ll _never_ do that again.” Gavin had to fight to keep his voice from cracking.

“Gavin—“

“ _Please,_ Michael.” Gavin swallowed hard. “If… you were gone… I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” He had meant to say _if you had killed yourself,_ but somehow, what he said felt more right.

Michael blinked away more tears. Gavin could feel him leaning into his palm. “Okay, Gavin,” he said softly. “I promise.”


	7. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a bit, yeah? I guess the spark is fading. I hope it'll come back to life so I can finish the plethora of stories I have lined up.
> 
> I started a new one (code name: SVACB), other than ETF; a quick n' dirty one, but I hope you guys'll enjoy it.
> 
> My sister (11) is whining about her second period. Her first was crampless, but this time it hit her like a ton of bricks. She took a shower for no reason half an hour ago. Serves her right, she was a bitch all day, nagging me about driving her to the store to get marshmallows when I'd just come home from work and had relaxed in my favorite Bruins jammie bottoms. What am I, a delivery service?
> 
> And another thing: my dad keeps using my car (Minerva). MY car, bought with MY money. Granted, he does service it, but still. He wasn't even going on an errand, he just went for a drive. And, yesterday, he asks me to move my car so he can get the MGB out of the garage, and so I get in and turn it on, and SOMEONE had changed my first three presets. One of them was even a country station! I HATE country! And frequently, I'll find my seat slid waaaaay back, which is a pain in the ass when I'm late for work. Urgh.
> 
> I hope my writing isn't too cliche, that it makes sense. I feel like I'm not writing Michael and Gavin very well, and that I'm jumping around a bit. Hmmm.
> 
> I love how my prime writing hours are 12:30 am to 4 am. Especially when I have to go to work in the morning. 
> 
> But, I'm determined to finish this story, for you guys. I may be a passive-aggressive teen on mood stabilizers who doesn't trust her feelings, but you guys make me so happy with your support. Your words give me energy. Please, lend me your strength!

“Come on,” Gavin said, patting Michael’s knee and standing. He led Michael to the couch and sat him down. “Sit tight for a sec, okay? We’ll do whatever you want, but I have to do something first.”

Michael nodded sullenly and selected episode one of _My Little Pony_ from the Netflix menu.

As he watched the colorful equines on screen, Gavin darted about the apartment, gathering everything he thought one could hurt themselves with and throwing them into a pillow case. Knives, scissors, a hammer. He kept a couple forks and spoons, but deposited the rest in the bag. He hid Michael’s razor, assuming he may want to use it for its intended purpose but not trusting him to use on his own.

He dropped the bag by the door and went to sit down next to Michael. He pulled out his phone and texted Geoff:

> stop by when you can. no rush.

Gavin was no longer tired. His fatigue had melted away as soon as he’d seen the blood. Michael seemed collected now, but the bandages on his arms told a different story.

“You don’t trust me.”

Gavin sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Michael… I’m trying, okay? But… you’re making it rather difficult.”

“M’sorry.”

“It’s all over now, isn’t it? There’s no need to apologize,” Gavin said with a smile. Michael watched him with sad brown eyes. “Now,” Gavin continued, “let’s do something, yeah? Anything you like.”

Michael fingered the bandages restlessly. “Well… I kinda just want an _MLP_ marathon right now. Y’know, learn the magic of friendship from the beginning.” He gave a little laugh, but there was no heart in it. Gavin could tell he was exhausted, but didn’t foresee any sleep in Michael’s future.

“Yeah, okay,” Gavin agreed, “and I’ll make you breakfast. What would you like?”

“Nothing.”

“Michael…”

“Fine. French toast, please. Easy on the cinnamon.” And with that, he turned back to the screen.

Gavin grimaced— _wet bread—_ but got up and strode to the kitchen.

As he prepared the food (trying not to be sick), he let himself be tangled in his thoughts. _I’ve stopped him for now… but what if he tries something again?_

Gavin’s heart sped up even thinking of the possibility. As much as he wanted it not to be true, it _was_ a very valid possibility. And as he delved deeper into the feasible repercussions of another episode, he found himself experiencing immense volumes of sadness. He paused his soaking of the bread ( _sodding disgusting_ ) and felt the tingling in his tear ducts as his eyes threatened to well up.

 _What if…_ He hated himself for thinking about it. He felt as though if Michael took his own life, he, too, would want to follow. _But why would I feel that way?_

Unless…

Feelings had never been a clear subject for Gavin. Women sometimes intimidated him, and he was always unsure how to approach him. And he had never really felt strongly in the romantic sense for any girl, at least he never thought so. _Well, except for Meghan, but that went south quick._

His time with Michael had pulled up new feelings, of which he hadn’t experienced before. He wondered if these emotions were infatuation.

_Nah._

He didn’t want to think of that any longer. He finished frying the French toast and tossed the slices on a plate and – plenty of butter, not too much syrup—brought it over to Michael, who grabbed the plate and dug in immediately.

“You’re _welcome_ ,” Gavin quipped, but he was glad Michael was eating. _See? Already a bit better._

The hours passed quickly. Gavin tried to keep Michael talking, which was easy, since he had never really watched _My Little Pony_ before and had a hard time keeping names straight.

“So your favorite is… that yellow one, right? Fluttersky?

“Flutter _shy,_ dumbass.”

“And Ray’s favorite?”

“Applejack. The one in the hat.”

“Ohh. I rather like that Rarity bird—or mare, or whatever.”

“You would, you snobby British bitch.”

Nine episodes in, and Gavin had run out of things to say, having learned all the names.

It was then he noticed Michael was considerably closer to him than when they’d started watching—not that he’d minded; whatever Michael wanted, that was the new motto—but it made him a bit curious.

_He sure seems clingy. Suppose it comes with the trauma._

He felt movement near his hand as Michael’s fingers crept towards his. They touched, and Gavin smiled. He took the initiative and laced their fingers together. A quiet sigh from Michael.

_Whatever makes him happy._

\--

The silence had pushed at the dam that held back the ghosts.

Michael was getting nervous. He prayed the voices wouldn’t start again.

He’d shot a furtive glance at Gavin, who, with furrowed brow, watched the screen attentively.

_Idiot._

But Gavin was no idiot—at least when it came to taking care of him. Even after his episode, Michael thought he was doing a good job.

_Better than if he’d left me alone._

After episode five, he began his inching toward the oblivious Brit. It was a sizeable gap, but by the end of seven he’d halved their distance, and by nine he was close enough to hear Gavin’s breathing.

**_Michael, you should have been sneakier._ **

He held his breath. _Fuck._

**_If he hadn’t caught you, you could’ve been free._ **

His fingers crawled toward Gavin’s. He was scared, near frantic.

**_Really, you should be angry at him. You’re going to be miserable—_ **

When their fingers made contact, the voices ceased. A wave of relief washed over him, and intensified as Gavin took his hand. Gavin’s warmth was therapeutic.

Michael exhaled. _Thank Christ._

Gavin was his anchor. His safe room. Michael gave a little smile.

_And I’m his lovely little boy._

_His._ That made Michael happy.

\--

The approaching end of season one brought hunger. Gavin’s stomach grumbled irritably, and he could hear Michael’s doing the same.

He turned to Michael and smiled. “I’ll go make lunch,” he said, giving Michael’s hand a squeeze before letting go and getting to his feet. Michael pouted a little. “Don’t be a baby, I’ll be quick.”

Gavin rifled through the cabinets when he reached the kitchen. He found a couple cans of chicken noodle soup, put a pan on the stove, and began heating.

Five minutes later, he poured the soup into bowls and brought them (along with the remaining spoons and a couple Cokes) to the couch.

“I’m happy you’ve got your appetite back,” he said, handing Michael his lunch.

Michael made a face and started eating.

Gavin grinned, satisfied, and followed suit. _I’m a half-decent nanny._

Slowly, but surely, Michael was turning into his former self. Even in the wake of his incident, he seemed to be getting better. Gavin wondered what had changed, why he was responding so positively so soon after he hurt himself.

_Those voices… have they stopped, or something?_

He supposed it was possible. It was all rather sudden, yes, this miraculous turn—but Gavin tried not to be skeptical, to just be thankful Michael seemed to be happier. But he doubted they were out of the woods yet.

_He was raped, moron. That scars pretty deep._

And yes, Michael would be carrying those scars, physical and mental, for quite a while, if not for the rest of his life. Gavin could imagine that it would make a lot of things difficult—relationships, for example.

_Which is why this silly idea of yours is stupid. Even if what you do feel is even remotely romantic,you shouldn’t try anything. It might upset him._

Gavin glanced over at Michael, who was devouring his soup like an addict presented with cocaine. The Michael he saw could have been the Michael from two weeks ago, if he hadn’t had bandaged arms. _It’s the small victories that add up. Now I just need to get him to sleep, but that’s easier said than done._

It’s not like he could strap Michael into a stroller and walk him around the park until he got sleepy. _He’s not in nappies; besides, he’s not ready to face the world just yet._

No, not yet. But he was getting there.

\--

Michael savored every swallow of the canned soup (though he guessed it might be passed its expiration date—if soup even _had_ an expiration date). He savored the heat running down his throat that was countered by cold soda. And he savored the silence in his mind.

_Christ, does it take a load off._

No voices, no ghosts, no 4D memories. And he hadn’t even had to hurt himself to achieve the peace.

Michael looked down at the place where his and Gavin’s knees touched. Barely three square inches of contact, through two layers of pajamas, and even that was enough. If only he could carry a piece of Gavin with him everywhere, and touch it whenever he needed strength.

Michael wrinkled his nose. _Now that’s Ryan-level creepy._

Speaking (thinking) of the other, out-of-the-loop guys… Michael wondered what they thought was going on.

How long has it been since that day at the office? Two? Three? Michael wasn’t sure. Time was fluid in this new, safe existence with Gavin. Especially with no sleep, with the heavy curtains blocking out the dangerous world outside, all this time just felt like one, long day.

But that one, long day had to end sometime. Gavin was tired, he himself was tired, but neither of them slept, for the benefit of Michael, to hide from what lurked in his subconscious.

_But that doesn’t mean Gavin has to suffer._

There were bags under Gavin’s eyes, and he often yawned, but he had stayed awake for Michael’s sake.

But now that Michael had found his ghost-repellent, he wondered if he could sleep peacefully. _Worth a try._ His own eyes stung from keeping them open.

Gavin was done with his soup. Michael put his own empty bowl and can on the floor and twisted around until his head was pillowed on Gavin’s lap.

The Grand Galloping Gala was drawing to a close. Twilight Sparkle and her friends were happy and together.

Michael closed his eyes. The warmth in his full stomach from the soup and the warmth from Gavin’s legs were like a lullaby, and when Gavin’s fingers began lightly combing through his hair, he smiled and succumbed to sleep.


	8. Dreamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hhhhhhholy fucking shit, guys. It's been a while, and I'm wicked sorry.
> 
> Senior year's been tough. Lots of stupid boy problems, lots of anxiety, lots of crying. But hopefully, it gets better from here-- especially with the Twenty One Pilots concert coming up in the beginning of December :D
> 
> So there've been some awesome points in the past few months: hosting Audrey and Noemie, two lovely girls from France, getting permission to brush my (male!) friend's lovely girl-length hair,going to see Kodaline (a band I highly recommend), discovering my new favorite tea. And then I had a story dedicated to me by the lovely jazz_is_mine. Dude, you have no idea how much that meant to me. Vainly, I printed out the notes section of your story (a beautifully written one, I might add!) to put in my locker in case of bad days. Your dedication, and my black belt, are the greatest achievements of my teenage life. Many thanks, and much love.
> 
> Comments keep my hair vibrant and purple!

Michael’s breath was warm against Gavin’s leg.

Gavin looked down at him and smiled. He felt a sense of accomplishment, getting Michael to sleep after his period of insomnia. _He’ll probably feel better too._

The brown curls his fingers were tangled in were soft and thick and smelled like citrus. Gavin wished he could save this moment forever, so perfect and peaceful, considering the recent past. He took his phone from the end table and snapped a picture of curled-up Michael, then texted it to Dan.

Dan replied a few minutes later:

> -What’s up with the bandages

Gavin’s smile fell from his lips. _Right._ He replied:

> -He hurt himself
> 
> -Intentionally?
> 
> -Yeah

It took a little longer for Dan to reply this time.

> -You fell asleep?

Gavin was ashamed.

> -Yeah
> 
> -Jesus. Well is he ok now? How bad was it?
> 
> -He’s fine. Sleeping now. It wasn’t too bad. I fixed him up.
> 
> -Good. I gtg. Keep me updated yeah?
> 
> -Ok.

Gavin sighed and replaced his phone on the table. He’d forgotten about the bandages. They’d reminded him that Michael wasn’t completely out of the woods. _But he’s close, right?_ He carefully removed Michael’s glasses and set them on the end table, then rubbed his own eyes. Gavin hadn’t realized how tired he was, after the stress following Michael’s episode.

He settled back against the cool leather of the couch and closed his eyes, stroking Michael’s head until he drifted off.

\--

_“Dude, hurry the fuck up!” Michael called to Gavin. “We’re not going to get a good spot!”_

_Gavin, lagging behind with a cooler full of beer, grimaced. “You could help me, you know,” he huffed._

_They were climbing to the top of a hill in the evening heat of Texas July. Around them, families and couples sat on blankets with drinks and bags of snacks._

_“Here’s good,” Michael decreed. He spread their blanket in the grass and sat down, joined by Gavin a minute later. Gavin sat heavily and pulled a couple of beers from the cooler, uncapping them and handing one to Michael. “Cheers,” Michael said in an atrocious British accent._

_Gavin made a face and gave him a playful shove. “Sod off!”_

_“Shut up!” Michael hissed, but he was smiling. “It’s starting.”_

_A flash lit the sky, followed by a_ boom _that resounded in both men’s bones. Michael scooted closer to Gavin, who wrapped an arm around his waist. He took a sip of beer. Another firework made the air pulse. Red light reflected on his glasses._

_Michael sighed. The whole situation struck him as rather clichéd and sappy, but he was content. He could smell Gavin’s cologne and feel the warmth of his hand on his hip._

_They didn’t speak. The people around them fell away until it was just the two of them upon the grass. The explosions sparkled before them._

_Michael felt Gavin’s forehead against his temple and warm breath on his neck. He turned his head and locked his gaze with Gavin, and despite the dark he could see clearly the grey-green of his eyes, and he watched as they closed as Gavin leaned closer to kiss him._

_The light was all around them now. The fireworks swallowed the dark of the night, and the now-muted_ boom _s matched Michael’s heartbeat, and suddenly they were floating upright in blank space, still connected by their lips._

_“You guys really should buy that blender,” Geoff muttered somewhere in the distance, and Ryan added, “Yeah, it’s Edgar III’s favorite.”_

_Gavin and Michael finally parted when the whiteness around them began swirling pink and yellow._

_“Ready?” Gavin asked with a stupid grin._

_“Yeah.”_

_They clasped hands and zoomed into the churning haze._

_\--_

Michael’s lips twitched into a near smile as he slept.

Gavin’s eyebrows furrowed.

\--

_It was dark, yet Gavin could see everything._

_He stood rooted to the spot, watching as Michael was raped by a faceless man._

_“Stop it!” Gavin screamed, and Michael howled with pain._

_“Help me, Gavin!” he sobbed as his face was grounded into the pavement._

_Gavin’s arms and legs were weak. He didn’t have the strength to run to Michael and save him._

_“Why won’t you help me?”_

_The air was too thick. Gavin was suffocating. His vision blurred but he could still see the man driving into Michael, and the blood running down his legs._

_His pulse was deafening in his ears. Michael’s screams were drowned by the fast-paced throb._

Knock knock knock knock—

\--

— _knock knock_.

Gavin woke with a start. His heart still beat wildly.

Michael was still sound asleep on his lap, undisturbed by the twitch that was Gavin’s return to the material world.

_Knock knock knock._

Door.

Gavin gently wiggled out from underneath Michael’s head and substituted a pillow, then made his way to the door.

It was Geoff. “Hey, buddy,” he said with a smile. “I brought you guys dinner.”

Tucked under his arm was a glass dish that leaked the scent of freshly made brisket. Gavin’s mouth watered, and he grinned. “Thanks,” he said, taking the dish and setting it on the counter.

“Listen, I can’t stay for long,” Geoff said. “Griffon and Millie and I are going out to eat.”

“Where?”

“Homeslice.”

“Sweet.”

Geoff looked around. “Where’s Michael?”

Gavin smiled and put a finger to his lips, then led Geoff to the living room.

“First time in days,” he whispered.

“What’s with the bandages?”

Gavin sighed wearily. “He… tried to kill himself.”

Geoff breathed in sharply. “Jesus, dude. Is he okay now?”

“Yeah, thank God. We had a _My Little Pony_ marathon and he seems much better now.”

“Good.” Geoff sounded relieved.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Gavin murmured, and he went to fetch the bag of sharp objects. “It’s a precaution,” he explained when Geoff gave him a quizzical look.

“I gotcha,” Geoff said.

“Have you been feeding Lloyd?”

“Griffon put Millie on that.” Geoff grinned. “She was so excited. Lloyd’s in good hands.”

“How is everyone?”

“They’re all good. They’ve been asking about you too, though. I’m not sure what to tell them. Ray wants to stop by sometime.”

“I’ll ask Michael if he’s up for that.”

“Okay.” Geoff turned towards the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Geoff.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Gavin closed the door quietly behind Geoff and eagerly opened the still-hot brisket.


	9. Warmth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, two posts within 24 hours! It's a Festivus miracle! But eek, this is short :c
> 
> Kinda flippin' out at the moment; it's Christmas Eve, and though UPS claims they'd delivered a package for me yesterday, it's nowhere to be found. Fuck Discovery Channel and their procrastination. Seriously, I ordered the damn shirt over two weeks ago, and the order finally processed a couple days ago. Ugh.
> 
> Anywho. If you haven't already, please read Super Heroes Are Cock Blockers, my freshly-posted X-Ray and Vav oneshot! Still working on ETF, though. It's already around 3,700 words, and there's still much more to write :T
> 
> Sorry if this is a bit fluffy, lately my writing has lacked vigor -_-
> 
> Commentez, s'il vous plaît!

It is accepted fact that Geoffrey Lazer Ramsey’s barbeque could raise the dead.

Not three minutes after Gavin had uncovered the warm brisket, Michael woke and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Thank Christ, I’m starving,” he said, and grabbed two plates from a cabinet.

Gavin smiled, watching his friend scour the kitchen for the scant silverware and clean glasses. Michael had returned to normal, appetite-wise. It was definitely a step in the right direction. However, Michael was still skittish at night and needed Gavin keep back the “ghosts” plaguing his mind. _Well, I’ll stay with him as long as he needs._ Of course he would. Michael was his boi, and Team Nice Dynamite needed to remain a team. It was a given.

He didn’t protest when he was handed a portion notably smaller than Michael’s. Thankfully, the fridge contained a half-full bottle of barbeque sauce. There were no rolls to make sandwiches, but the bread would only take away from the ambrosia that was Ramsey barbeque.

The couch was now officially a dining area. Both men sat with brisket and sodas and the entertainment was changed from _My Little Pony_ to _Samurai Jack. Safe for Michael,_ Gavin thought.

“Slow down, Michael, you’re getting sauce all over your gob,” Gavin chastised, starting in on his lunch.

 _“You’re_ a gob,” Michael declared with a mouthful of food.

Jack slashed at Aku. Gavin smiled to himself. _Yes. Definitely approaching normal Michael._

\--

After they finished, Gavin got up and took their plates to the kitchen.

Michael watched the battle onscreen. He was full and rested and content. He concluded that, at that moment, life was good. He looked over at Gavin, who was in the middle of washing their dishes. _And I have that fucktard to thank._

Gavin was like those therapy dogs they had in hospitals. He was even hairy like them. Even looking at him gave Michael a little jolt of happiness and security. Michael’s mind was quiet, except for little musings about the parts of the dream he remembered—Gavin’s soft lips, his warmth, their psychedelic journey. He decided it might not be all that gross to kiss the Brit. _But that’s totally gay._ He knew Gavin would never go for it. The only time Gavin had ever kissed a guy was for that short, and they had to bully him into that and bribe him with pizza and booze. Even then, Gavin had put on a pretty convincing performance, and Michael felt a little pang of jealousy when he thought back on the passion between Gavin and the repair man, even if the guy was older and balding. _Especially_ because he was older and balding.

 _Don’t worry about it._ Michael shook the envy from his head. Lately, he’d tried to think happy thoughts, for Gavin. And he supposed it’s been working. His head wasn’t so clogged anymore. The memories of what had happened rarely emerged. Even if they did, they never lingered, never hit Michael with the force that had driven him to a suicide attempt.

Michael looked down at his bandaged arms. The wraps would need to be changed soon. He felt so foolish now, looking back. He was stronger now. But he was so angry at himself for putting Gavin through such an event. He had heard the emotion in Gavin’s voice and seen the glistening trails on his cheeks. And he’d caused Gavin to lose trust in him. _I need to get that back._

\--

Gavin returned to the couch with a roll of gauze.

The cuts looked clean. Gavin was as gentle as possible when examining the faint red lines marring Michael’s soft skin. He ran a finger lightly over the divide between Link and Ganondorf, feeling the little bump where the separated skin met. _My fault, I guess._ He sighed quietly.

“Hey,” Michael said, placing a hand on Gavin’s shoulder. The cold tip of Michael’s thumb rested against the exposed skin of his shoulder. “Don’t you _dare_ blame yourself. This is all me.”

Gavin looked up. There was guilt in Michael’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” Gavin murmured, looking away. “I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.” His fingers gingerly traced Link’s sword.

Michael’s hand reached up and pulled at Gavin’s shaggy hair. “Quit it,” he growled. “You’ve done nothing but make me better.”

Gavin relaxed a little. _He admits it._ He flashed a sad smile and re-dressed Michael’s cuts. “Let’s do something now.”

The two settled on _3D Ultra Minigolf,_ during which Gavin had his ass handed to him, and after they grew tired of it, they put on a horror flick.

Michael rested his cheek on Gavin’s shoulder as they watched. Coarse gauze met skin where their arms were linked.

Gavin smiled into his cup of Earl Grey. Honestly, it felt natural now, this closeness. And he liked it. He’d missed the intimacy of a committed relationship. _That’s not what this is, but it’s close enough…_

He felt Michael’s fingers on the hand holding the tea, pulling the cup to his freckled face. Michael took a sip, made a face, and spit the tea back.

“ _Mi_ chael!” Gavin complained, snatching the cup away and setting it on the end table. “I’m going to have to dump that out now!”

Michael snickered. “You’re such a little bitch.” He shoved the Brit with his shoulder. “How can you drink that shit? It’s fucking nasty.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gavin sniffed. But inside, there was no bitterness. _More and more like my normal boi._

Michael was now snuggled further against Gavin. He was so warm, so full of fire and life. Gavin felt himself getting warmer too. _Reckon I may have a little thing for him._ Now, with this openness and proximity and stability, the thought was refreshing. Perhaps something would blossom. Perhaps something good could come from this ordeal.

A busty girl was sliced to bits onscreen. Her blood stained near-nonexistent white shorts and a too-small tube-top.

Michael played casually with Gavin’s fingers, pulling and bending. It was slow and shy, as if they were teenagers on a first date. Gavin rolled his eyes and trapped Michael’s hand with his own, and the other man seemed to relax further. The head on his shoulder felt heavier. Gavin turned slightly, his lips barely brushing citrusy curls.

_Yeah, maybe this could work._


	10. Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 5 am, and I promised Kyle I'd keep him company whilst he guarded life at the pool. Fuck.
> 
> Listening to M83 with my new Sol Republic Master Tracks (TM) has made me spacey. But seriously, if you have $200 to burn, I suggest you get these headphones. Fucking magical.
> 
> Special thanks to M83, The Killers, The Beatles, MGMT, and you lot. You're all the sun.
> 
> I'm not sure if I like this chapter or not... It's hard keeping consistent, y'know? I don't like that my chapters are slowly decreasing in word count and length. Maybe I should start lumping chapters together... I hope y'all enjoy this one, despite its pitiful length. Nothing but the finest for you lovely bunch of coconuts <3
> 
> Donne-moi ses commentaires!

_It’s settled,_ Michael thought. _I’m fucking insane._

The fleeting idea to kiss Gavin had festered into an overwhelming desire. Michael didn’t really understand where these feelings were coming from, but he didn’t care. His scattered opinions and views of Gavin had solidified into this:

_He’s sweet._

_He’s goddamn magic._

_He’s fucking attractive._

_I might wanna do gay shit with him._

Michael couldn’t decide if spending so much time alone with Gavin had been beneficial or unhealthy.

_Of course it’s been beneficial. I’m not a victim anymore, because of him._

Michael paused. No, he no longer thought of himself as a victim. Yes, he was raped. But now, he supposed, he wasn’t letting that fact get in his way. Maybe some effects linger—he was still a bit uneasy at the thought of being alone—but Gavin… Michael was sure Gavin could make anything like that better.

He tried not to think too deeply into this newfound affection for Gavin. It was there. No denying it. And Michael was just itching to act upon it. The problem was, how?

Presently, Gavin was in the kitchen preparing dinner. The oily aroma of frying bacon hung in the air.

Michael watched him briefly as he lounged on the couch, and then looked down at his laptop.

_I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this…_

He was cringing as the Google search bar was slowly filled with the words _mavin fanfiction._

Might as well have sick fucks from the internet guide him, right?

Tumblr, fanfiction.net, Archive of Our Own. The tabs at the top of the screen were soon filled with titles.

Many were downright inaccurate. A few were laughably bad. Michael skimmed them all.

By chance, the majority of the stories he’d tabbed weren’t exactly kid-friendly. Michael’s face heated up as he was regaled with tales of his sexcapades with Gavin (and, sometimes, the rest of the guys). He found himself slowing his skim and reading the details of their horizontal mambo on quite a few. Slow and sensual, quick and dirty, hard and angry. Even some bondage. Michael was mildly horrified—both at these people who have devoted their lives to writing this shit, and at the reaction happening within his boxers.

_Have some class, dick._

“Michael? You alright?”

Michael had been making a face of disgust for a little while now. At Gavin’s question, he quickly cleared his expression and browsing history and looked up innocently. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Gavin checked on the bacon, mushroom, pepperoni, and pepper-topped pizza in the oven, then went back to his own computer.

Michael closed his laptop and put it to the side. He wearily rubbed his face with both hands. He hadn’t picked up many tips from the sick-minded writers of the internet, but the ones he had involved guiding deception and school-girl behavior and shy advances. Clichéd, perhaps, but what choice did he have? Courting (Michael groaned at the word) Gavin wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Michael didn’t even know if there would be a payoff. Hell, it could ruin their friendship.

But Gavin’s behavior towards him led Michael to believe that there was potential. And oh, how he wanted the ditzy, goofy, beak-nosed idiot. It had only taken rape and attempted suicide to uncover the deep-rooted feelings. Even when he was in love with Lindsay, he was in love with Gavin. If only the fucking fool knew just how much he meant to Michael…

Michael steeled himself for the possible acting that was yet to come.

_I better win a goddamn Oscar._

\--

Gavin watched the brunette on the couch, as lost in thought as Michael appeared to be. He sighed.

_Sure, he’s doing much better, but it would be wrong to pursue him after what happened…_

His laptop’s screen displayed the _Rape trauma syndrome_ Wikipedia page.

_“Minimization (pretending 'everything is fine')… Questioning their sexual identity…  Conversely, some rape survivors become hyper-sexual or promiscuous following sexual attacks…”_

Gavin wanted to believe his gut-feeling that there was a genuine mutual attraction between he and Michael, but considering what he’d been through…

_But Michael’s different. He wouldn’t let something like this take over his mind._

But he would never take a chance that would hurt Michael, even if keeping his feelings inside drove him mad.

_Everything is for him._

\--

The pizza was only slightly burned. Michael barely noticed. He was tired again, and his mind was a quagmire of questions and possible solutions and Gavin. He still was unsure of what he had to do—perhaps play up his fear and dependency—but it wasn’t very fair to Gavin, was it?

_Jesus fucking Christ, I wish I was a goddamn mind reader. Or like me in that other fanfic with the timers or whatever._

Maybe he didn’t want to see into Gavin’s head. Maybe Gavin thought he was weak or fragile or needy.

 _Nah. Fuck that._ He was too tired to think further on this matter anyhow.

It was 11, but to sleep-deprived Michael, it felt later. Gavin was already passed out on Michael’s shoulder, lips parted to let out quiet snores. Michael wanted to sleep too, but his position was killing his back. He groaned and nudged his unconscious friend.

“Gavin.”

No response.

“Gaaavin,” Michael said louder.

“Shhhgirrmft,” Gavin replied.

“Dammit.” Michael wriggled free from the weight on his shoulder. Gavin began sliding slowly down, but Michael grabbed his hand and yanked his arm until he was conscious enough to stand. “C’mon.”

He led the stumbling Gavin to his neglected bed. Gavin immediately flopped down over the covers, and Michael had to push him over to make room before climbing in himself and placing his glasses on the bedside table.

It felt good to be able to lie horizontally. Gavin had rolled onto his side, facing Michael. Michael scooted close enough that Gavin was no longer fuzzy and watched his sleeping face.

_I’m a creep._

It was static, but peaceful. Michael ran his hand from Gavin’s hair over his cheek and shoulder and arm to his hip, and then pulled himself closer. His nose touched Gavin’s, and Michael leaned in a bit more until their lower lips brushed… but he changed his mind and pulled away.

_Not yet._

But goddamn, did this feel fucking right. It felt like the heyday of he and Lindsay’s relationship, with all those little things and quiet moments and infatuation. It was like when younger Michael, when the New Jersey lights were dim enough to let stars shine with near-full capacity, would stare up at the cosmos and marvel at how empty and yet so full space was, and his insignificance in the universe, but at the same time how his existence was known to so many people, each with their own consciousness and thoughts and opinions. He’d once told Gavin he was the sun, but now he saw his boi was entire galaxies.

He’d like to experience that awe again. If only the Austin night sky wasn’t polluted by lights.

For now, Gavin would have to do. His scent would be Michael’s constellations, his pizza breath his black void, the infrequent little movements of his body his meteors, his face the sky. Michael felt the giddiness of the nights of his youth.

 He pulled Gavin’s arm over until it rested comfortably over his neck, and draped his own arm over the other’s side.

_Yeah. I definitely want this._


	11. Safe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my Christmas present to Kyle was supposed to be eight hours of sleep on a school night. Seeing as it's nearly 2 am right now, I'd say I should just give him a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels and give up on sleep. You guys are more important anyhow.
> 
> I'm glad this one's a few hundred words longer than recent posts. I feel bad that I'm only pumping out thousand-word chapters so far apart. Hopefully, ETF'll make up for that (that is, if it ever gets finished -_-).
> 
> This chapter was fueled by Vanessa Hudgen's "Say Okay." It really is a shame she dropped off the face of the planet.
> 
> I'd love some comments! The recent days have been dark indeed.
> 
> Also, pleeez check out Super Heroes Are Cock Blockers! I'm so very happy with how it turned out.

Gavin woke with his nose pressed to a pillow. The smell of oranges and Michael made him feel warm.

He was laying on his front in Michael’s bed, but he had no idea how he had gotten there. He was alone, but he felt a faint heat on his right arm and chest. He smiled sleepily and got out of bed.

The clock read 9:52. Gavin could hear the popping of a hot pan in the kitchen and quiet babble from the TV. He wandered out of the bedroom to find Michael at the stove making breakfast.

“Morning,” Michael greeted, glancing at him with a smile.

“Morning.” Gavin looked over the array of food strewn over the table. “Are you… are you making a proper English fry-up?”

“Maybe.” Michael returned to his cooking and a wide smile spread across Gavin’s face.

_My lovely boy._ Gavin was moved. It even looked like Michael had Wikipedia open on his laptop. The apartment smelled like his home in England on Sunday mornings. _And he seems so much better…_

“Hey, quit grinning like an idiot and take a shower,” Michael commanded. “You’re all greasy.”

“No, let me help—”

“Not a chance. Now get your limey ass in the bathroom before I throw all this shit away.”

“Fine, fine…” Gavin obliged, and began going back to Michael’s room. “Oh! Before I forget,” he said, turning back around. “Geoff said Ray wanted to stop by at some point. Would that be okay?”

Michael paused his frying for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

“Alright.” That was good enough for Gavin. Gleefully, he made his way to the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

He was so excited. Michael’s evolving behavior gave him so much hope. _Even considering having Ray over!_

And the whole breakfast thing, too. Gavin felt like a kid on Christmas.

He turned on the shower. It was the first he’d had in a few days, but he hadn’t noticed how gross he felt. Usually, he bathed daily. _More pressing matters._

So it was then he noticed that his toiletry bag was light one provision: shampoo. _Meh. Not a problem._ He had grown to love Michael’s anyhow.

\--

Gavin’s reaction had Michael contented.

It would take a lot more than a breakfast to completely pay back all that Gavin had done for Michael, but this was a start. He’d hated to leave the bed where he’d been all cozy with Gavin. Both had rolled slightly in the night, and Michael woke on his back with Gavin’s cheek on his shoulder and a spot of drool on his shirt. But some heartfelt home-cooking would show Gavin how much better he was, as well as score some affection points, he reasoned. _Slow as shit, but that’s how it’s gonna have to be._ So he showered and redressed his arms and got to work.

Michael thought about a possible visit from Ray. He was a little wary of letting someone from the outside into the safe little world Gavin had created for him. He supposed, however, that permitting Ray to stop in would further prove that he wasn’t being affected by what happened with crippling intensity any longer. And Ray wasn’t threatening in any way, he knew that. He resolved to get a hold of his bespectacled friend after breakfast.

Gavin emerged from his shower clad in fresh jammies soon after Michael finished cooking. He piled everything onto plates—bacon, sausages, toast, eggs, mushrooms—and set them on the counter. The kettle and Keurig were nearly finished boiling and brewing.

Gavin smiled as he gazed at the dishes. “Michael, this is lovely,” he said softly.

Michael’s face heat up a little. “Yeah, well. You’ve been cooking for me, so I thought I’d return the favor.”

His face heat up more when Gavin hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Michael,” Gavin whispered.

“No problem, buddy,” Michael replied, returning the embrace.

He furrowed his brow when they parted. He grabbed Gavin’s face in his hands and pulled him down, then pressed his nose into his wet, sandy hair.

“Bitch using my shampoo,” he muttered, pushing Gavin’s head away, but he was smiling.

“Geoff didn’t pack me any!” Gavin replied defensively.

“Yeah, yeah…” Michael was a little disappointed that Gavin now smelled less like himself, but he couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, even if Gavin’s shampoo-stealing was necessary. _Now the idiot smells like me._

Everything tasted “proper and delicious,” Gavin had declared, and Michael’s pride in his recipe-following skills swelled.

“I haven’t had a fry-up in _ages,”_ Gavin gushed as he stuffed his gob. “This is really toppy-tippers.”

“Oh Gavin, you flatter me,” Michael said with a smirk. He was in the middle of a textual conversation with Ray, and they agreed on him stopping by around lunch time. “By the way, Ray’ll be popping in around 12 or so.”

Gavin beamed. “That’s ace, Michael. I’m glad.”

Michael smiled and took another bite of his eggs.

\--

Ray came bearing Whataburger.

“Man, I wish I brought my PJs,” he sighed. “Looks like a fucking party up in here.”

“S’not much of a party when you’re puking your fucking guts out,” Michael remarked. He’d donned a baggy sweatshirt to hide the bandages bound around his forearms and was trying his best to feign post-flu fatigue.

“Yeah, you feeling better now?” Ray asked, placing the bags on the counter.

“I’m not on the verge of death anymore, so I guess.”

Ray’s smile was warm. “Sweet. Good thing you have Nurse Gavvy to change your bedpan and give you sponge baths, eh?” He gave Gavin a little shove.

“Jeez, you and sponges…” Gavin muttered. “It’s not gonna happen, Ray.”

“Dude, the sponge is the _future_ ,” Ray insisted. He turned to Michael. “I gotta be back at the office at two; let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

They all chowed down on the freshly-delivered Whataburger. Michael and Gavin, not so peckish after their extensive breakfast, managed one and a half burgers a piece. Ray devoured four.

Michael watched his old friend attempt to appease his bottomless stomach. He thought about telling Ray about the rape. Ray was one of his closest friends, after all, and as of that moment, only Gavin and Geoff knew of what happened that night. Michael supposed he liked the exclusiveness of those in the know, but at the same time he wanted the rest of the guys to know. With his improved attitude, he was now not as uneasy about his friends knowing. He was proud of the progress he’d made. He felt like he had defeated the ghosts in his head, that Gavin had driven them away and lent Michael the strength he needed to overcome their stinging words.

And Gavin was proud of him as well, he could tell. And even if Michael left out some details of his days with Gavin, he was sure the remaining Lad and Gents would be proud of him as well. As long as he had Gavin by his side, he was confident he could spill the dirty beans and conquer anything that followed. Hell, he might feel even better getting everything off his chest.

They ended up playing an array of games. Most of Michael’s library saw action— _Battle Field, Geometry Wars, 3D Ultra Minigolf Adventures, Castle Crashers, Cloudberry Kingdom,_ and more still. There were heated tournaments and quests for high scores, and Michael was happy and felt like his former self.

Their backs were hunched and their gazes bored holes into the imaginary worlds experiencing their digital mayhem. There was much swearing and punching and nicking of batteries. It was much like work, minus the pressure to please an audience of millions.

“Move! Move, you meat-spinny _bitch!”_ Michael yelled at the TV, currently displaying the muscled figures of _Mount Your Friends._

Ray was speedy with his fingers, and in half the time it took Michael to reach the top of the stack he, too, ascended to the peak of the man-pile.

Ray laughed as he perfectly posed the tan-skinned Irving Heer at the highest point. “Man, I’m just tearing your anus to shreds…”

Michael felt an involuntary stiffness in his spine, and his heartbeat sped up a little, as Ray’s careless words were the first in a while that had set his mind floundering.

But then he felt a hand at his back, and his apprehension melted like snow in a spring rain.

_My hero._

Michael smiled a little, and relaxed further as Gavin’s palm began massaging circles into his skin.

_God, I hope he’ll have me._


	12. Gratitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking shit, guys, I am so sorry.
> 
> It's completely unacceptable that the space between two posts should see three piercings, two transitions of love interests, a change in hair color, and a re-reading of Twilight. I'm wicked sorry.
> 
> My passion for the Team Fortress 2 fandom has reawakened, so if you're a member of that and the RT fandom, you're in luck. I have a story or two in the making.
> 
> ETF still unfinished, but I feel the end is near, I promise. It's currently at 5595 words.
> 
> Thank you to Vanessa Hudgens and Foo Fighters for Say Okay and Everlong, respectively. And thank you to all of you. Y'all are the cat's pajamas.
> 
> Speaking of pajamas, it's 3:42 am. I'm off.

“Y’know, I think I want to go to work Friday.”

Ray had left. Michael and Gavin had had a light dinner of takeout from Super Bowl ( _thank God they deliver_ ) around an hour prior, and presently the two of them were relaxing in Michael’s bed, made drowsy by warm pork fried rice and egg rolls.

Gavin rolled to his side and propped himself up with an elbow. “Yeah?” he smiled. “The Gents’ll be happy to see you.”

Michael laughed and mirrored Gavin’s position. “Maybe, until I kick their asses at something.”

Gavin snorted.

They chatted offhandedly for a while until the cicadas began their song in the world beyond their haven, summoning a warm Texan night.

Gavin hadn’t realized just how tired he was until he caught himself yawning. He stretched like a cat. “Well,” he sighed, “I am knackered as hell. Care for a kip?”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I could go for some _sleep._ Jeez, fucking speak American.”

“Can’t make me.” Grinning, Gavin rolled off the bed and stood. He was glad to have what appeared to be a semi-normal night’s sleep ahead of him, unobligated to keep an eye on an insomniatic Michael. His nearly-fixed Michael seemed eager for an ordinary night as well.

They brushed their teeth and took their respective leaks. Gavin’s normal routine prompted him to take off his shirt, but he hesitated, unsure of how his state of undress would make Michael feel. He reasoned he was probably overthinking things, but just to be sure…

He looked to Michael. “Do… do you mind?”

The brunette gave him a funny look. “’Course not.”

Gavin suppressed his smile. _Of course he doesn’t. My boi can handle anything._ He yanked off his shirt and tossed it to the ground, earning a glare from Michael, who was in the process of changing his bandages.

“ _Hey_ ,” he snapped. “Does the floor look like a fucking hamper to you?”

“But Michael, _your_ clothes are on the floor—”

“And _my_ name’s on the fucking lease, so pick it up, bitch.”

A smirk flashed across Gavin’s face as he plucked up his shirt and threw it into the neglected laundry basket in the corner. Michael’s vinegar was playful, but it was vinegar nonetheless, and Gavin was glad Michael’s words had their familiar bite back.

He jumped into Michael’s inviting bed, and Michael himself soon joined him, pulling off his glasses and placing them safely to the side. He scooted close to Gavin, who left an arm outstretched for Michael to pillow his head on, and wrapped an arm around his chest for a quick, awkward hug.

“Thanks, Gav,” he whispered.

Gavin smiled and pet Michael’s curly hair. “Anytime.”

When Michael let go, Gavin stretched his free arm over to the light switch and after a struggle managed to get the lights off.

After a few minutes of pre-sleep silence, Gavin felt Michael’s arm tentatively snake across his fuzzy chest again, and he grinned and pulled him close.

_Maybe I could get used to this._

\--

Tuesday morning found Michael perhaps a little warmer than he deemed comfortable in terms of sleeping conditions, but undeniably content.

He was still curled around Gavin, who snored gently in his ear. He realized just how chick-flick-ish they must look right now, tangled in each other’s arms, but he was too cozy to care.

And for a while, he let his mind wander. It was something he’d been hesitant to do lately, with what happened and for fear of the ghosts that still may cling to his mind, but at this point, he felt strong enough to face anything that could pop up in his head.

People from outside his new world crossed his mind. Geoff and Ray, Ryan and Jack and Burnie and Gus and Kerry. Lindsay, too, made an appearance, but Michael carefully pushed that particular image away. _There’s another thing I’ll have to deal with._

He wondered what videos the others had recorded without he and Gavin. Geoff had a list of four-player games stashed away just in case, and they had well-over three months’ worth of content, but there were a few games he’d expressed wanting to be a part of. He was sure Geoff would’ve kept that in mind.

Then his mother’s face came up. _Denise._ Michael wondered what she’d say if she knew what happened. She’d probably demand he come back to Jersey and go back to the glamorous life of an electrician. Michael quickly removed that thought as well.

It was a little before eight. Michael was proud of himself for sticking through a whole night with a somewhat-normal sleeping arrangement. He decided it was still too early to start the day, but a full bladder goaded him to get up.

As he wriggled from the arms around him, he heard Gavin stirring.

“Wot… wot’re you doin’…?” he mumbled, his accent made thicker from sleep. He sounded like a proper idiot.

“Gotta piss,” Michael whispered, finally freeing himself and standing. “Don’t worry, I’m not ready to get up yet. And you should brush your teeth. Your breath smells like shit.”

Gavin groaned but obeyed, and after Michael used the toilet, both of them brushed their teeth and got back into bed. Again, Michael laid his head on Gavin’s shoulder, his nose nearly brushing the other’s neck, and settled an arm around his chest. Gavin rolled a little to the side and placed his hand on Michael’s side.

Comfy once more, both men closed their eyes.

“Hey, Gav?” Michael murmured after a few minutes.

“Mmm…”

“Don’t you think this is a bit gay?”

Gavin furrowed his brow. “Do… do you want to stop?” he inquired.

“No, no, I was just saying…” Michael wasn’t sure where he was going with that. He decided to steer the conversation in a different direction. “It just, like… makes me feel safe, y’know? If that doesn’t make me sound like a total pussy.”

Gavin opened his eyes and looked down at Michael, who looked up at him in turn. “I don’t think you’re a pussy, Michael,” he said with a small smile. “You’re one of the toughest people I know, especially considering what you’ve been though. I’d be in utter shambles.”

“So you, uhh, don’t really mind this?”

“Nah. As long as it’ll help you, I’d do anything.”

“Do you… like it?” Michael tried to keep the butterflies from messing with his voice.

“Well…” Gavin looked away sheepishly. “Um… I rather do, I guess… It’s different than with a girl, that’s for certain. I never pegged you as the close-contact type, though.”

“I make exceptions for my boi.” Michael grinned. He was happy that they were able to have a conversation like this that only felt a little awkward to him. “I really can’t thank you enough, Gav. For everything you’ve done in the past few days.”

Gavin blushed a little. “Aw, Michael, it’s really no trouble…”

“No, really.” Michael shifted onto his elbow so he was eye-level with Gavin. “You, like, put your life on hold for my stupid ass. That’s a big fucking deal.”

“Stop it, Michael,” Gavin groaned. “You make me sound saintly.”

“I’m serious! This means so much to me.” Michael felt a familiar lump in his throat. Too many emotions, too fast.

“I’m glad I’m able to help you this much, then,” Gavin said with a smile. “You’re my best friend—I want to make you better.”

Michael tightened his hold around Gavin’s middle. The intimacy of the moment was fueling his courage. Now felt right. _I guess this is as good a time as any._

“Thank you,” Michael whispered again, and his hand left Gavin’s side to rest on his cheek. The roughness of his stubble was a new sensation. Gavin didn’t as much as flinch.

Their eyes were locked, misted blue and warm brown. Michael could feel his heart pounding and from the part of his palm pressed to Gavin’s neck, he could feel Gain’s rapid pulse as well.

“Thank you…” Surging with adrenaline, Michael leaned forward and connected their lips.

Gavin’s hand slid to the small of his back and pulled him closer, driving Michael to deepen their kiss, and in the intensity of that instant a tear escaped his eye.

Gavin reciprocated with as much enthusiasm, but kept it gentle. His lips fit well with Michaels’, and god _damn_ did this feel fucking right.

But then… Michael felt a change over Gavin, tenseness and release of grip. He felt him start pulling away. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.

“I’m sorry, Michael, but I don’t think you’re…” Gavin trailed off, pained. And then Michael realized why.


	13. Treason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new favorite person is the wizard on the Celestial Seasonings Mint Magic box. The swag is unreal. Check it out sometime.
> 
> I felt so bad about the unintentional hiatus between chapters 11 and 12 that I started writing this Monday when I should have been studying for a physics test. Got a 45, hopefully to be raised to a 70 after I appeased the teacher with test corrections. AP physics, man. It's no picnic. 
> 
> I went to my first "wild teenage party" last night. I was nervous as fuck, and only went after encouragement from my buddies and coworkers. The guy I fancy didn't go, though. I was happy to be in the top three most sober people there. I suppose I'm the concerned drunk because all I could think the whole time was about the poor little puppy crated up with all the loud noise and smoke around him and this one chick who was so smashed it was sad. Even after several people tried to calm her down, she ended up getting in her car and driving off. I'm still worried about her.
> 
> Make up for my disappointing night with comments!
> 
> (Also excuse my reckless use of British slang. I'm awful.)

Michael pushed himself from Gavin’s grasp and tumbled backwards off the bed. He stood on shaky feet, looking down at Gavin, who returned his gaze with sad eyes.

Michael wasn't sure what he was feeling. Horror, anger, betrayal. Again, he was assaulted by emotions that brought waves of nausea and tears to his eyes.

Words eluded him for a few moments, and then he found them in fits and starts.

“Y-you… think… I’m fucking weak,” he guessed in a trembling whisper. “You think… because of…” He took a deep breath, and the anger overtook the shock. “Because I was fucking _raped,_ you think what I’m feeling about you is a goddamn side effect.”

Gavin broke eye contact and sat up. He scrubbed his face with his hands.

“Michael…” he sighed, “it’s just… neither of us can be sure—”

“You don’t trust me?” Michael didn't bother keeping the bitterness from his voice.

“I do!” insisted Gavin. “But… it’s a valid possibility.”

“Fucking _valid_?” Michael seethed. “It’s not fucking _valid_! I know how I fucking feel.” His voice cracked as tears traced shining pathways down his freckled cheeks. “What about you? How do _you_ feel?”

Gavin locked eyes with Michael. His expression was wistful.

“You’re the most important person in my life, Michael,” he whispered. “I would do anything for you.”

“Then what does it matter?” Michael said softly, his words thick with tears.

Again, the Brit averted his eyes. “I… I’d feel like I was taking advantage of you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Anger again. “ _Well, what do you think you’re doing right now?!”_ Michael shouted. He turned and ran into the bathroom, slamming the door and slumping against it until he slid to the floor. He put his face in his hands and wept.

After a few minutes of silence, he heard the gentle creak of bed springs as Gavin stood. Then he felt a little shake of the door as the other man laid his hand against the white wood.

“Michael…” His voice was muffled. “Michael, I’m so sorry I've upset you. I just don’t know…”

Michael shot to his feet and whipped around.

“You fucking _idiot!!_ ” he shrieked at the door. “I’ve felt this way even _before_ what happened! I know how I fucking feel, and you’re the fucking _world_ to me. Why can’t you understand that?”

The other side of the door was quiet for what seemed to Michael quite a long time. His head ached with the anger pulsing through his body. This wasn't the anger he felt at video games, the rage that made him such a memorable internet personality. He can’t remember the last time he had felt this way.

He thought about the man beyond the few inches of wood separating them. Despite his traitorous ideas, Michael couldn't help but love him. His face, his laugh, his voice with its stupid accent that just made him all the more beautiful. Imagining the glorious being hidden from him cooled the burning sensation in his face. Now the fury was slowly being replaced with despair at the thought that Gavin would never be able to accept that Michael’s passion for him was authentic. It scared him.

But then again, he trusted Gavin completely, and the compassion he had been showing for the past week just backs up his claim of affection. The silence was a good thing, then, isn't it?

_Maybe he feels as bad as I do._

Michael hoped to god that that was the case.

“Michael?” finally came Gavin’s plea. “Will you open the door?”

Michael stood numbly, hesitant to face him. For a while, Gavin had made him doubt himself. Of course, if his recently realized love for the idiot in the other room was truly because of his ordeal, he could never really know… but then, surely, the intensity of the indignation and betrayal he was feeling must mean the attraction was deep-rooted and genuine.

_It’s okay, Michael, calm down…_

Michael steeled himself, then slowly turned the knob and pulled the door open.

Upon seeing the remorse marring Gavin’s face, his tears began anew. He threw his arms around Gavin’s neck and sobbed into his shoulder, and the wetness seeping through his shirt indicated Gavin was doing the same.

“I am so sorry, Michael,” he whimpered. “I’m a damn fool. Of course I trust you. I should have never doubted it.”

Michael said nothing. His breaths came in little gasps as his crying subsided. Gavin’s hands ran gently over his back, drawing away the storm of negativity that had enveloped him. Relief now flooded him, and his sense of security returned.

 _It worked out. I got what I wanted,_ he realized. The thought brought a giddy grin to his face.

“Can we go back to bed now?” he mumbled into Gavin’s shoulder.

Gavin chucked wetly. “Yeah. Whatever you like.”

They retreated to the cozy confines of Michael’s bed, both tuckered from crying. The birds outside sang of a clear morning.

They curled around each other, unhesitant to make skin contact. Michael took Gavin’s face in his hands and kissed him, committing to memory the feel of stubble on his lip and chin.

And this time, Gavin didn't pull away. Again, he responded with as much feeling as Michael. Michael could feel the apology in his kiss.

It was kept chaste. It seemed to both men that furious frenching was a bit uncouth. Nonetheless, it was a trip to Nirvana for Michael. When finally their lips parted, he felt the tendrils of heaven withdraw, but the residual warmth left him relieved.

Gavin’s eyes opened slowly and were immediately intercepted by Michael’s own. Michael smiled and scooted down to nuzzle his head in Gavin’s neck. Gavin kissed the top of his head and held him closer.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” he whispered, and there was a thickness to his voice that reinforced his words.

“I know.”

\--

Gavin wasn't sure what had awoken him. For a minute he lay still, wondering and trying to arrange his thoughts into something understandable. Then he saw the glow of his iPhone screen.

_Ah, a message…_

Gavin stretched his arm to where the phone lay on the bedside table, careful not to wake Michael, cradled in the crook of his arm with his fist balled on Gavin’s chest like a baby.

Finally retrieving it, he unlocked the screen. It was from Dan.

> >How are things?

Gavin looked down at Michael, at the redness and puffiness around his eyes.

> >Good now I suppose

He typed with one hand.

Another bubble popped up at once.

> >Something happen?
> 
> >Kind of. We had a bit of a spat because I was a bloody idiot but we made up.
> 
> >Oh that’s good.

Gavin hesitated before replying.

> >I guess we’re lovers now.

This time, Dan took a minute to respond.

> >What exactly happened?

Gavin recapitulated the events of hours earlier in great detail uninterrupted. The ellipses indicating Dan’s forthcoming text remained onscreen for a few minutes.

> >Gav, promise you’ll be careful, ok?
> 
> >What do you mean?
> 
> >You could really, really hurt him.

Gavin furrowed his eyebrows.

> >What’re you on about?
> 
> > Like PTSD.
> 
> >Michael’s stronger than that.
> 
> >You can’t know that. After Lizzie seemed completely over what happened to her, she tried to get back out and find a boyfriend. Only when she did, and they first tried to shag (which was a long time after they began dating) she had a freak out and the relationship ended. And I had to watch her for a while too. And then she was on the piss nightly. She hasn't dated since.

This information sent a shock of worry though Gavin’s thoughts. It was another thing he had read in his research online. It wasn't like he was looking for sex with Michael. He hadn't even known he was also into men until recently, and wasn't even sure if sex with another man would be something he would fancy, though if Michael wanted it, he’d immediately oblige. As far as he was concerned, a sexless relationship with Michael would be fine with him, as long as they were together and happy. The last thing Gavin wanted to do was hurt him.

> >I won’t do anything he doesn't want to do. I’ll make sure he’s absolutely ready.
> 
> >Honour his wishes, but use your better judgment. Realise that he may not know how he’ll react.

Gavin wished Dan was with him now in the states and not out where he could be killed. Dan’s words always gave him guidance, and he didn't know what he would do if his friend was lost because of a stupid war Britain had nothing to do with. But he took solace in the idea that Dan would be back soon.

> >Cheers, Dan.
> 
> >Don’t mention it.
> 
> >You’re brilliant, you know?
> 
> >Of course I know that, twit. Gtg.
> 
> >Ok. Night mate.


	14. Identities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I writing this okay? I feel like a fumble sometimes--though I suppose the majority of writers aren't big fans of their writing styles.
> 
> It's almost 2 am. I felt bad that I haven't posted a chapter in a while, and finishing Edgar the Fifth (which I am immensely proud of and you should totes check it out) motivated me a bit. And though it's late, it isn't too bad; the only thing I have to worry about tomorrow is whether or not to sleep through The Lion King in English class and a test in French. Senior year, baby.
> 
> The past few days have been a little stressful. Today was bad. All during lunch I had to listen to one of the only creatures I despise talk to my friend for 20 minutes. It was giving me a headache and making me angry. And then, I was driving said friend home, I got pulled over for a bit o' speeding (no ticket, thank R'hllor), and that really freaked me out. I was shaking and everything. On top of that, I'm preoccupied with worrying about a friend's wellbeing. Work helped, though. By the end, I was singing Grease songs with Sam and dancing around the kitchen. Burger King works wonders.
> 
> Anyhow. Comment and criticize and the like. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter.

By now, midday light was straining against the curtains drawn closed across Michael’s bedroom windows. The hum of traffic and occasional droning of cicadas kept Gavin from drifting off again. It was half past noon anyways.

He stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure what to do now. Dan was right; he needed to tread carefully. After all, Michael’s very recent break-up—with a woman he’d loved so dearly, a woman to whom he had been considering proposing—may have left him with fresh wounds that he had not yet discovered yet with his recovery being his main focus. Michael seemed so unfazed, and though he had confided in Gavin their issues, Gavin knew a relationship that had lasted so long could not be ended so cleanly. Who is to say that Michael wouldn’t want her later, deciding relations with Gavin was a mistake?

_No,_ Gavin said to himself. _I trust Michael, and if he says he loves me, I believe him._

And Michael’s feelings were reciprocated. Gavin was happy with the idea that they could go on as…

_As…_

Gavin couldn’t find the word. He didn’t know _what_ to label them. Boyfriends, lovers, partners, paramours… Nothing really stuck, and nothing would until he discussed with Michael. The implications of each didn’t exactly fit their situation—“boyfriend” suggesting short-term and shallow, “lovers” implying a long-standing passionate affair, and so forth. What would they tell people?

_And what will people think?_

Dan doesn’t care. England in general is quite okay with homosexual relations. America, however, is a horse of a different color. And in Texas, no less. There may be more conservative states in America, but Texas was a member of the south, and the south was notorious for prejudice. Austin is quite the progressive city, but Gavin had only ever seen in-depth Austin and the accepting people therein. He worked with wonderful people who would support them, he was sure, but what about the streets? There was no telling what strangers believed, and any danger to Michael brought Gavin’s primal instincts to the forefront. He hadn’t been able to protect Michael that night, but he sure as hell wouldn’t allow anything else happen to him.

The hum of the insects beyond the windows cut like a buzz-saw. The air inside had that artificial feel provided by the AC.

A groan sounded from beside Gavin. He looked down to see Michael’s closed eyes squeezing further shut as they fought the day battering against his lids. Gavin stroked his head until Michael was awake enough to squint up at him with an exhausted expression on his face.  

Gavin awkwardly smiled down at him. He wasn’t really sure how to act, now that they were… whatever they were.

Michael grunted and dropped his head heavily back on Gavin’s shoulder. “Make me food,” he mumbled against the brit’s skin.

Gavin snorted. “Then get off me, y’donut.”

Michael cackled and pushed Gavin away, then rolled back over. Gavin, grinning, stood and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

_Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought._

\--

When Michael finally found his way to the kitchen, he found Gavin frying eggs. The latte maker whirred and the toaster ticked and the kettle hissed.

Gavin glance over at Michael and smiled. “Go sit, it’s near done.”

Michael smiled back and went around the counter to settle on the couch. He turned and peeked over the back to peer at the man who had mended him.

He was so thankful. He was astounded that someone could be so influential and reverse the effects of such a devastating experience.

The Michael of a couple weeks ago would never could have guessed he and his friend would end up like this. He supposed it seemed a bit rushed—their sudden coupling—but looking back at Gavin’s care, and even their close friendship before, he decided it wasn’t such a big deal.

He pondered his sexuality. Men had never interested him, the pink being his preferred genitalia. Maybe he was just gay for Gavin. A term suddenly floated into his thoughts: _pansexual._ He had read about it somewhere on the internet—Reddit, probably.

_What the fuck was it…? Gender-blind or some shit?_

It was as good a term as any. It was a bit of a relief to put a word to his feelings. _I’m less weird now._

Gavin was done making breakfast and presented Michael with a full plate and a freshly made latte before joining him on the couch. Michael murmured his thanks and dug in.

The food was good. Both men focused on their breakfasts for a few minutes.

Gavin paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, and then set it down on his plate.

“Michael… what are we?”

Michael furrowed his brow and chewed a strip of bacon with thoughtful slowness. “I dunno, dude,” he replied after swallowing.

“Are you my boyfriend now?”

“I think we’re a bit more than that.”

“Umm… partner?”

Michael scrunched his nose. “Nah…”

Gavin sighed. “We need a label, you know.”

“Do we, though? I mean… you’ve always been my boi, but now you’re… _my_ boi,” Michael supplied, emphasizing his ownership.

Gavin snorted. “Sure, then. We’re… affectionate bois.”

They set their plates on the coffee table. Michael turned to sit cross-legged in front of Gavin, who mirrored his position.

Michael rested his chin on his hand. “So, what now?”

“Well… we could play _Halo_ , or _3D Ultra Minigolf_ —”

“No, fuckhead. I mean, what do we do now, now that we’re affectionate bois?”

Gavin chewed his lip for a moment, then tentatively reached out and took Michael’s free hand. “This is… okay?”

“Uh-huh…” Michael was slightly nervous now. He wasn’t sure why.

_Christ, this is cringe-worthy. It’s like we’re 7 th graders._

A sudden desire to preserve their masculinity drove Michael to squirm up to his knees and let go of Gavin’s hand. He reached out and grabbed Gavin’s face in both hands and crushed their lips together. After some blundering on both their parts, they managed to get into a comfortable rhythm. Gavin placed his hands on Michael’s sides and pulled him closer, their kiss growing more frenzied by the second.

Michael felt his heart pounding. _Oh god oh god oh god this is happening oh fuck—_

The leather squeaked as Gavin’s legs quickly unfolded, and Michael took the opportunity to push him backward against the armrest, ignoring Gavin’s mumbled _careful my knob, pleb._

The snogging (as Gavin would sometimes refer to it as) lasted until both men had to come up for air. They gazed at the other’s reddened face and heavy-lidded eyes.

“That okay?” Michael asked breathily.

“Very okay,” Gavin muttered back with a grin.

Michael stretched out his arms to encircle Gavin’s head and nestled his head against his neck. For Michael, any sounds in the room were drowned by Gavin’s rapid pulse.

Gavin’s fingers slowly trailed up and down Michael’s back. His boi sighed in appreciation.

“I might just be gay for you, Gavino Free.”

“It’s not ghey if it’s on the moon.”

“Shut the fuck up.”


	15. Natural

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself :c
> 
> I'm so sorry for leaving you guys hanging. It's been three fucking months!! Summer is nearly over!!
> 
> I hope this chapter came out decent. I dunno, I just feel like my versions of the guys don't do them justice. And they're a bit out of character. Let me know what you think.
> 
> I'd ever so appreciate y'all checking out my new story, Fifty Shades of Ray. I'm very happy with it. He's easy to write.
> 
> Comments beget cookies!

Friday arrived quickly, bringing with it a slight pang of sadness; Gavin and Michael would have to travel from their quiet, safe world to one with less predictability, with loud noises and variable people and judging ideas.

But Michael was ready to see his other friends. Gavin had brought him to a point where he felt confident and secure. Michael smiled as he dressed for the day.

The days since the evolution of their companionship had been exploratory. There were testing of waters and cautious pushing of boundaries—both men were unexperienced in such matters, of course. But it was a wondrous experience for the two of them. They felt like they were floating as they caressed and kissed and held. Their intensity varied, though Gavin preferred to err on the side of caution while Michael tended to get rough. But it was all okay.

Gavin looked to Michael before they crossed the threshold into reality. “Ready?” he asked, and took Michael’s hand.

Michael gave him a smile. “If you are.”

\--

They were greeted enthusiastically when they entered the little Achievement Hunter office. They’d gone in a little late, so all the others were already there, preparing to record a video.

“How was your little vacation?” Jack asked with a grin.

“Top,” Michael replied simply, settling in his chair next to Gavin.

“Man, you guys missed out on some quality shit,” Geoff informed them. “Burnie ate shit in the hallway because Joel left one of his dumb money magazines on the floor, and then Gus tripped over him. It was the greatest fucking thing I’ve ever seen!”

“And Barbara thought it was a good idea to bring in a stray to keep Joe the Cat company and they had a fight to the death,” Ryan added from his couch. “There was hair everywhere. I had to call Laurie to check out the two of them.”

“So what’d you guys do?” inquired Jack.

Michael looked back to Gavin with a smile. “We gamed a shitton. And Gavin was my personal chef.”

“Lucky,” Ray muttered glumly. “I’m actually getting tired of bagels.”

\--

Michael and Gavin sat out of that day’s Let’s Play. In response to the success/fan-formation of “Trivia Tuesdays,” the other four had elected to play _Mouse Trap_ , which looked and played rather dully, but as always, the commentary made it YouTube-worthy.

After the fifth cry of “ _Cheeeeeese!!_ ”, the couple decided it wasn’t worth the headache and excused themselves to raid the kitchen. Sifting through the fridge yielded little; there were various bottles of booze, a half-loaf of bread, some soda and juice, a box of microwavable pizza rolls that were likely past expiration date, a nasty-looking health drink labelled _Blaine,_ and a bag of grapes. Gavin settled on a Coke and the grapes, while Michael filled a mug with some off-brand cereal.

Someone had left a plate of cookies out on the table, which the two ignored (seriously, with Burnie griping about it every chance he got, when were people going to finally get the hint that opened shit on the table would never get eaten?). Gavin pushed the deserted plate aside and they sat at the table to eat.

“So,” Gavin said after a minute. His mouth was full of grapes. “Are we gonna tell them?”

Michael sighed. “I mean, what do we say? ‘Hey guys, I know you guys are doing a Let’s Play right now, but we’re totally gay for each other as of a few days ago’? It’s kinda fucking out of the blue.”

“So what, we just act like it’s totally normal?”

“I guess. I mean, I don’t wanna hide it.” He smiled and put his hand over Gavin’s.

“Aww, boi,” Gavin grinned and gave him a quick kiss.

\--

When they returned to the Achievement Hunter office, the rest of the gang were still engrossed in their virtual board game. They settled into their chairs to watch. Gavin had rolled himself over so he was right next to Michael, their chairs nearly touching. And, after a little while, Michael wriggled his arm around Gavin’s to link them.

Gavin smiled at how natural this felt, at the warmth of Michael’s arm and the faint citrus from his hair. The others couldn’t see them as they were crowded around the TV. There was still a slight anxious twinge in his stomach as he imagined them turning and seeing them, but he could think of no negative repercussions to them knowing of this new bond between he and Michael. He knew his friends: supportive, understanding, loving and forgiving. Some of the best men he’d ever met. He knew they wouldn’t give a fuck, and soon he and Michael would become the butt of jokes in private, and that their secret would be safe and unspoken of until they decided to tell the public.

Gavin would never do anything to affect Achievement Hunter. Who knows, perhaps their coming out would strengthen their image, but he knew that, with most of their fanbase consisting of males, there would be a lot of negative feedback.

_Bugger them._

He glanced over at Michael. His boi’s lips curved slightly with that little smile he loved so much. He leaned over and kissed his temple, earning an elbow jab and a grimace.

“ _OHHHHHHH!!”_ the Gents and Ray roared as Ryan rolled a game-ending five.

The two left-out Hunters laughed along with them. Ray spun around to get support after his defeat from his fellow lads. As he spotted their looped arms, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

“You suck, Ray,” Michael said with a grin, and Ray’s befuddled expression changed to a pout.

“That crazy asshole cheated,” he muttered. “Totally bribed that potato-mouse bitch.”

\--

The six of them went out for lunch soon after Ryan’s victory. Pizza Hut was the unanimous choice.

It was busy. They crammed into one booth, with Lads on one side and Gents on the other. Office gossip was a hot topic.

Jack leaned forward. “Is it true that you broke up with Lindsay?” he asked Michael lowly.

Michael took a moment to swallow his mouth full of pizza. “Yeah,” he uttered. His lips were twisted into a slight grimace. Gavin glanced at him and gave his leg a squeeze.

“What the hell brought that on?” Jack pressed. “Everyone thought you guys were gonna tie the knot.”

Ray and the other Gents looked at Michael intently, waiting for his answer.

The brunette pushed up his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We, uh… i-it’s complicated,” he finally managed.

Geoff looked to him with sympathy. “Sorry to hear it, buddy. Sounds rough.”

“So,” Gavin broke in loudly. “I had this idea for a _GTA_ things to do…”

Grateful, Michael took his hand beneath the table, breathing a sigh of relief. _Lindsay._ He’d nearly forgotten. And he’d have to face that shitstorm at some point, seeing as they work together.

But for now, all he decided to worry about was beating Ray in pizza consumption. Gavin’s fingers interweaved with his helped keep his mind off his former girlfriend.

_Thank Christ for my boi._


	16. Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus. 
> 
> I think the last thing I wrote was a vore story for my boyfriend, what, five months ago?
> 
> Oh right, I got myself a man. He's amazing and I'm addicted. Blame him for my absence.
> 
> I don't know what spurred this. Perhaps it was the whole "create something" for Monty. I'm not sure how he'd take to a story such as this, though. Rest well, dude. You deserve it, though you may not want it.
> 
> I hope this chapter is okay. I actually had to go back and re-read to try and get my facts straight. Even then, I feel like I'm all over the place. I'm going to attempt to write more from now on, though I'm a bit overloaded with crochet projects at the moment. I'm a full-blown hooker now.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and kudos. Y'all are too good for me. Love you!

The following days at the office were filled with content-filming and brainstorming. Geoff insisted that Gavin and Michael’s absence had put them behind schedule, even though they had a surplus of videos that would last them several months. Gavin reasoned it was Geoff’s way of getting Michael back into the swing of things, rekindling the fire that had ebbed following what happened. And Gavin was grateful.

Michael was smiling and laughing like nothing had happened. He even recorded a Rage Quit and Gavin thought the finished product contained as much rage as the videos that came before.

But at night, when the two settled under the covers, Michael clung to Gavin, and the Brit could feel the weakness that sometimes crept into his boi’s body, sending shivers down his freckled back and eliciting shaky, near-inaudible whimpers. And Gavin shushed him gently and kissed his citrus hair and stroked his cheek, and Michael would immediately relaxed and let out a drawn-out sigh. And then Gavin would stare at the ceiling and let out his own sighs. He knew that this behavior may never end, that trauma left scars that last.

Sometimes he dimmed the screen of his iPhone and messaged Dan, asking about his day and fishing for distractions. Sometimes he browsed Reddit. Sometimes he played _Doodle Jump._ Sometimes he researched. But mostly he let his mind wander.

And he’s stated time and time again on the podcast how much he hates it, how his brain came up with ridiculous theories and questions. Nowadays, he rarely wondered about what time it is space, or whether dogs know that they’re dogs, or if babies float. Nowadays, it was worry and what ifs—not _wot ifs,_ those were completely different.

He knew Michael was strong, he’d told himself over and over. And he knew his worrying would only cause problems.

He’d read somewhere that anxiety makes your hair fall out.

_Chest hair too?_

He’d have to bring that up in the next podcast he was on.

Michael’s sheets were soft beneath his back, and he was tickled by warm, minty breath on his neck. Outside, the cicadas whirred on as they always did. The walls made little noises and occasionally the fridge would hum. But he knew eventually the bed would envelop him with its spell of slumber, and he would drift.

 _The bed he used to share with Lindsay,_ Gavin thought sleepily before he succumbed.

He prayed that confrontation wouldn’t happen any time soon.

\--

No such luck.

They woke and began their morning routine. Michael could hear Gavin’s robust singing in the shower as he watched the latte machine do its thing.

He smiled. The songs were the same the Hunters always sung during Let’s Plays, but in their little world, Gavin’s voice seemed less exaggerated. Michael liked it.

Michael was happy, he knew that much. He felt secure and safe and close to normal.

The smile faltered a bit when his thoughts turned to his ex.

He knew it wasn’t fair _not_ to talk to her about what happened. He hadn’t been actively avoiding her, but she seemed to be avoiding him.

He resolved to try and seek her out today at lunch and take her someplace.

\--

Michael didn’t tell Gavin about his plan.

Around lunch, he made an excuse about running an errand for Gus, and when Gavin offered to come with him, he waved him off, telling him to go eat with Geoff, who was meeting with Griffon and Millie at P Terry’s. After all, Gavin hadn’t seen his American family in a while and the lady Ramseys wanted to see him.

After Gavin left, Michael began his search for Lindsay. He asked around until he found her chatting with Kara in one of the conference rooms, spinning in her swivel chair with her back to the door and laughing at a story.

Michael lingered in the doorway until Kara finally noticed him, and she stopped talking and nodded at Lindsay in his direction. Lindsay looked over her shoulder.

For the first time in weeks, Michael looked into the blue eyes of the woman he had loved.

He still loved her. She was beautiful, bright gaze and shiny red hair and round cheeks and full lips.

_We’d been falling apart for a while. Things are different._

The look she gave him was sad. Her lips parted a little and her cheeks twitched.

Michael cleared his throat. “Uhh… Can we talk?”

Kara looked from Michael to Lindsay and raised her eyebrows, but after a few seconds of telepathic communication between the two women, Lindsay gave a little nod and stood, turning to face Michael.

“Where to?” she asked, her voice devoid of her normal bubbliness.

“You pick.”

\--

They ended up in a little café down the street from the office. They sat inside, the AC welcome in lieu of the Texan heat.

They both got coffees. Neither had much of an appetite.

After a few minutes of silence, Michael sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t really know where to start…”

“No, it’s okay,” Lindsay replied quickly, “ _I’m_ sorry for what I said. I don’t know what Gavin meant, but he seemed concerned. What was up?”

“I…” Michael hesitated, unsure of whether he wanted to open that particular can of worms.

Lindsay looked at him with a furrowed brow. He could tell that she could tell that Michael was uncomfortable.

In the end, he decided she might as well know. He rested his elbows on the table and ran a hand down his face. Around them, couples chatted and smiled and those alone were glued to the work or leisure on glowing screens.

“So, like…” Michael’s voice wavered throughout his story. “Uhh… a couple weeks ago, the guys and I went out drinking, and… so, I left early, before everyone else, and, um… I walked home and…” He took a deep breath. His hands trembled slightly, clasped before him. “And I… I heard someone behind me, and… and then I was in an alley, and his guy, he had a gun, and… h-he raped me.”

Lindsay stared wide-eyed. Michael could feel his eyes stinging with tears.

She opened and closed her mouth several times as she searched for words. Finally, she managed, “Y-you’re serious?”

He nodded.

Immediately, she reached forward and took Michael’s hands in her own. “Michael, I’m so sorry, I had no idea. God, and I was such a horrible cunt, of course I forgive you now. And Gavin was only trying to help you, fuck, I take it all back. Baby, I’m so sorry…”

Michael slowly pulled his hands from hers and looked down at the table. “Look, Lindsay…” He groaned and pulled at his hair. “Goddamn, this is so fucking hard… I… it’s over, between you and me.”

Lindsay looked flustered. “Is it because of what I said? I’m so sorry, I understand now, we can work it out—”

“No,” Michael broke in. “We were falling apart even before that and you know it. And I…”

Lindsay’s expression turned stony. “You already found someone.”

Michael sighed. “Don’t say it like that.”

“How? How the fuck did you move on that quick? After what happened to you?” Michael could tell she was straining to keep her voice low.

“It’s not like that…”

“Who is she?” Lindsay was clearly angry.

“Lindsay…”

“Who _is_ she?”

Michael took a few seconds before answering. “Gavin,” he said lowly.

Lindsay gave a short laugh. “You’re fucking hilarious.”

“I’m serious.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Gavin. Gavin Free. A _man._ ”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t know you liked dick.”

“I don’t like dick, I like Gavin.”

“Bullshit. It’s the trauma.”

“No, it isn’t.” Michael looked back up at her. “He took care of me. Protected me. And… I think I’ve felt this way for a while.”

She leaned forward. “Then why the _fuck_ did you stay with me?”

“Because I love you too. But we’re just not compatible anymore.”

Lindsay threw up her hands in exasperation. “Whatever. See you at work.” She stood and walked swiftly out the door.

Her coffee sat untouched and abandoned before Michael. He stared at it for a few minutes, distressed about the whole situation.

_I don’t know how to make it right._

Could it be made right? Could she ever forgive him for leaving her so quickly, and for a man, no less?

_I don’t know._

Michael stood and left as well. His cooling coffee watched him go.


	17. Blank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowza. It's been a bit.
> 
> This week has been one of the most miserable of my life, with today being the worst day. Yesterday, began getting a cold. Then mum called me and told me my nana died and that wake and funeral attendance was mandatory, and with the semester ending, it's just real shit timing. Then today I woke up early, congested and feeling like death, to go to the library to print a paper for a discussion I had an hour later, only to find that I hadn't sent it to myself. I then decided to skip the discussion and went to get food and study for an exam I had later, and realized I'd left my notebook in my room. So I took the bus up the hill and sent my paper to the TA and went back down to go to where the exam was held-- a far-away building I'd never been to before because my last name starts with a fucking M. The exam had a lot of stuff not covered in the review session, so I'm not terribly confident. I also had to get up out of my end-of-the-row seat to let people in and out. Got kicked and scraped my leg (you know, like when you brush up against a blunt object really hard and it just pulses pain?). Decided not to work out, which I'm immensely pissed at myself about. Then I missed my bus. Then, when I got up to my room, I saw that my stupid thighs had rubbed a hole in my favorite jeans, so that's basically unfixable. All I wanted was to cry and then nap, but one of my roommates was still there so I had to wait. I told my boyfriend all about my shit morning and he commented that I should lay off the excessive f-bomb use, which just angered me, because all I wanted was support and all I really had was him. A call from my dad woke me from my much-needed nap and I was very awake after that, and decided to go to the store for nasal spray and treat myself to Chipotle to make me feel better. Donned my only dress, so I felt kind of cute, yay. Chipotle was packed when I got there, and they almost fucked up my burrito (I asked for more cheese, and the lady didn't hear me but the guy behind me spoke up and was like, "I think she wanted more cheese." Thank you, kind boy). Even then, the burrito was sub-par. Then I was unable to make my ghetto Arnold Palmer because the fucking lemonade thing on the soda fountain was out of order so I was stuck with just the tea, which was kind of nast. Got some Snapple at Walmart though. Then went home, stripped for a shower, and stared at my boobs in the mirror for several minutes, feeling very self-conscious about them. Then I settled in to catch up with all the RT vids I'd missed due to my busy-ness (FunHaus is amazing). Watched for several hours, began feeling utterly dead again. Ever laugh while crying? It's painful. My boyfriend has been very occupied this week and I just felt so alone. Then I watched Chopped feelinglessly. Then I started writing again. Also, have to get up and get pretty for the end-of-the-year Smash tourney I promised I'd go to. And I'm writing a feature piece about it. I hope the social anxiety doesn't get the better of me.
> 
> Sorry for the wall of text, it's just been so fucking difficult this past week, and being so far away from Alex, Kyle, and my cats. On the bright side, I'm (hopefully) transferring to UMass Boston next year.
> 
> I hope this is okay. I really drew on my own feelings, with the numbness and all that. It's what I've been feeling lately.
> 
> Love you all.

Michael didn't return to the office right away. Instead, he took a walk in a nearby park.

It was sweltering. The sweat marks on his shirt slowly began to grow.

He stared at the ground, hands in his pockets. He honestly didn't know how he was feeling. Numb, maybe?

He knew his heart hurt a little. He really hoped Lindsay could grow to forgive him. He loved her, wanted her to still be part of his life, wished she would accept his relationship with Gavin. She wasn't one to hold grudges, but Michael knew he had really hurt her.

He looked up at the sky. The streaks of clouds he’d noticed on his way to the café with his former girlfriend were gone. A plane marred the liquid blue with an ugly white scar.

_I don’t really know what I’m doing anymore._

With slow steps, he walked back to the office.

\--

Gavin knew something was up as soon as he saw his boi.

Michael returned around two, later than normal. Gavin saw the weariness in the other man’s shoulders and knew that the “errand for Gus” was just an excuse and that something else had happened.

“Michael? You alright?” he asked as his lover entered the empty kitchen area.

Michael didn't say anything, didn't even look up. He just walked up to Gavin and lay his forehead on his shoulder.

Gavin furrowed his brow but wrapped his arms around Michael. He was afraid for a second that the time they spent apart had somehow re-triggered Michael’s ghosts, but he dismissed that thought.

_He’s strong, idiot._

But something had happened, that much was clear.

“Michael?” he said again, softer.

Michael let out a long breath. “Can we go somewhere else?”

“Of course.”

They searched together for an empty conference room and found one in a corner of the building. Gavin closed the shades. Michael stood by the table and looked at his feet.

Gavin walked over to him and took his face in his hands. “Hey” he murmured, “what’s up?”

He lifted Michael’s face to look into his eyes, and he saw that they were devoid of emotion.

“Boi, c’mon…” he coaxed, and Michael’s lips twisted a little before he spoke.

“I talked to Lindsay.”

Gavin inhaled in sharply. “And?”

Michael shook his head.

“Oh, Michael…”

Gavin threaded his fingers through Michael’s hair and pulled him close with his other hand. Michael’s arms hung limp at his sides, his eyes staring at the wall over Gavin’s shoulder.

They remained there for a few minutes. Finally Gavin asked, “Do you want me to ask Geoff if we can go home?”

Michael sighed. “I don’t want to leave, but… I just… I just can’t, I don’t—” He fumbled with his words for a few seconds, then let out a low groan, in which Gavin thought he heard a hint of a whimper. “I just don’t… _know_ right now.”

That kind of scared Gavin. This behavior was reminiscent of the attack fallout, and it broke his heart to see his boi in such a state.

He pulled back and took Michael’s chin, gently tilting his head back. Michael’s eyes were shiny and reddened and just stared without seeing.

“Let’s get out of here, alright?” Gavin said softly. “We’ll go home and get something delivered.”

Michael shrugged.

Gavin kissed his forehead. “You stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Michael responded with a dull “yeah,” and as Gavin left he saw him sit on the floor against the wall.

The Brit walked briskly to the Achievement Hunter office, where he found Geoff looking through _Fails of the Weak_ submissions with Jack.

He tugged Geoff’s shirt. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

The mustachioed American grunted. “Not now, asshole, I’m busy.”

Gavin tugged harder. “It’s kind of a _right now_ problem.”

Geoff made a noise of discontent and pulled off his headphones. “Fine…”

\--

After being filled in on the situation, Geoff had sighed and given them the okay to leave.

Gavin found Michael in the same position as before and pulled him up and led him from the building. Michael drove mechanically back to his place, silent. Gavin watched him the whole way, gently rubbing his right shoulder and stroking his hair.

Upon entering the apartment, Michael immediately sat at one end of the couch.

Gavin looked at him nervously. “Do you want anything? A drink?”

Michael shook his head slightly.

Gavin sighed and put the kettle on. He needed a cuppa to help him think.

He waited anxiously for the water to start bubbling. He was told once that a watched pot never boils, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at Michael. To see such lifelessness in the man he cared for so much…

Maybe he was regressing.

_What do I do?_

He didn't know who he could go to for advice. He didn't think Dan had any experience with someone in Michael’s state.

_I’ll have to figure this out on my own._

Finally, steam. With a scalding mug clenched in his hands, Gavin slowly made his way to the couch. He set his Earl Grey on the coffee table and settled in next to Michael. The bespectacled American didn't look at him.

Gavin put a hand on Michael’s leg. “Do you want to put on a movie?”

“No,” Michael muttered.

“Should I make food?”

“No.”

“A kip?”

“No.”

Gavin huffed. This was frustrating and his patience was wavering. “Should I leave you be?”

“Yeah.”

Gavin pursed his lips and scooted a little farther from Michael. When he took a sip of his tea, it burned his tongue.

_Michael… What do I do?_


	18. Powerless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Proud of myself for getting this out in one night. Though it IS almost 5am...
> 
> Tomorrow, my bestie's coming up to help me move out. It doesn't feel like the end of the school year at all--maybe because I still have to wear a jacket sometimes? Either way, I'm glad to be going home. I can tell my mum really misses me and she and I'll have a lot of 1-on-1 time with my bro and sis in school until the end of June (hehe, suckers...). And of course being around familiar people. I really don't have many girlfriends anymore, so I got in touch with my bestie from 7th and 8th grade. Turns out she goes to a Boston school! I'm pumped to reconnect.
> 
> I'm pretty okay with this chapter. Writing Geoff is interesting, and I may want to write something completely in his perspective. Think I have an idea with he and Jack...
> 
> Anywho, I'm mad tired and have to pee.
> 
> Gimme feedback, yo!

Gavin could no longer see the back of Michael’s head from behind the couch.

Michael had curled up on his side a couple hours ago, and the Brit was willing to bet his eyes were wide open, staring at the wall before him.

Outside, the sky was darkening. The stove clock read 9:23.

Gavin scrubbed his face with his hands. He felt helpless. He’d tried to distract himself with work and Reddit, but his mind kept wandering back to his miserable lover.

_Not even miserable, just… lifeless._

He’d tried getting ahold of Dan as well, but that proved futile as well. But he couldn’t keep going to Dan for every little bump. He wasn’t even sure if he had any expertise in this sort of situation.

_Gonna have to figure this one out on my own, I guess…_

He sighed, exhausted, and stood. He made his way to Michael’s side, and gently laid his hand on his shoulder.

“C’mon, Michael,” he said softly. “Let’s go to bed.”

Michael made no move to get up. Gavin huffed and pulled on his arm. “Let’s _go._ ”

Wordlessly, the other man obeyed, allowing Gavin to lead him to their bedroom, and just stood still staring at the ground as Gavin changed into pajama bottoms.

Gavin made a face when he turned to see Michael still fully dressed and unbuttoned his shorts for him. After they were both in sleepwear, Gavin prodded his boi into the bathroom and handed him his toothbrush. Michael did brush, but his brushing lacked energy, and when he was done he just went and laid down on his side of the bed, back to Gavin’s side.

Gavin remove his glasses and then kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry boi, okay?”

Michael didn’t look at him.

Gavin exhaled slowly and scooted under the covers next to Michael. He attempted to pull the other man closer, but Michael stayed put. Gavin just settled for resting his hand on the other’s hip.

He closed his eyes, but he knew this night wouldn’t see much sleep from either of them.

\--

Michael’s eyes were sore, but dry.

He knew he should be wary of the numbness in his head. It was kind of like how he felt shortly after the attack, but he didn’t fear it this time.

_I just don’t know._

That was his only thought. He just didn’t fucking know. He knew he’d hurt Lindsay bad, and he knew that he still wanted her as a part of his life, that he still loved her and wanted to be able to confide in her. She’d been his life for so long, and he wasn’t ready to let go of that.

He knew this new chapter with Gavin wasn’t a mistake. He was pretty sure he was in love with the goofy Brit and maybe even grow old with him, and he had known that this newfound relationship would probably cause trouble for both of them.

_I don’t know._

His heart hurt. He barely felt the warmth of Gavin’s fingers on his side. He didn’t know if Gavin could help him, if anyone could help him. Usually, when he had such uncertainty, he would go to Lindsay. But that wasn’t an option, was it? Maybe it would never be an option ever again. That prospect made his heart hurt even more.

_I don’t fucking know._

\--

Gavin’s alarm woke them around 8. Both men had unintentionally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning, and the morning found them wishing they had the day off.

Well, Michael really didn’t have a preference that morning.

Again, Gavin pulled him into the bathroom. He commanded the Jerseyan to disrobe and he complied, and together they showered, Michael’s washing half-hearted.

After they were dry and dressed, Gavin took Michael’s face in his hands. “Boi. You need to perk up a little. We have to work. Geoff’s been really generous here.”

Michael nodded slightly, his eyes downcast.

“ _Look_ at me,” Gavin growled through gritted teeth, and Michael gazed up at him dully. “You _need_ to get a grip here. Everything’s going to be fine. Do you hear me?”

Michael nodded again.

Gavin dropped his hands and grabbed his backpack, and Michael grabbed his own.

\--

Upon seeing them trudge in, Geoff immediately picked up on Michael’s lack of energy. He frowned and rubbed at his beard, turning back to his monitor.

Michael’s mood had set them back little bit, and the others had started asking about Team Nice Dynamite’s frequent absences. He’d tried to lie the best he could, but he could tell they were becoming suspicious. Especially Ryan. _Perceptive motherfucker._

And he couldn’t keep everything from Burnie and Matt forever. Sure, Michael had a pretty good reason for his distress, but his attendance in videos was pretty mandatory. And they could only film so many without him.

Last night, after some hearty love-making, he’d told Griffon everything. Her fingertips had swirled circles on his chest, gentle and thoughtful, for a few minutes before she’d answered. “He’ll need time,” she’d said, “and it sounds like Gav’s doing a good job in speeding up the process. I’m sure he’ll set him straight.”

_Hope she’s right…_

Michael was stubborn. Of everyone in the company, he always brought the most vinegar. He was strong. He’d never let anything pull him down. But a falling-out with someone he had formerly loved so dearly would obviously take its toll.

His fingers absentmindedly traced the tattoo his daughter had designed for him. He couldn’t imagine what’d happen if anything like that happened to her—he didn’t _want_ to imagine it. Just the notion made his stomach lurch.

He stood and walked over to Gavin, who was chatting with Ray but often glanced to Michael, sitting at his desk scrolling through emails.

“Lemme borrow you for a sec,” he said, and pulled Gavin away from Ray despite protests. They left the AH office and Geoff stopped at a secluded corner.

“Look…” Geoff sighed, crossing his arms, “Michael’s recent… states… are really starting to cause a problem here. I can’t keep covering. I get that he’s been through a shitton, and the thing with Lindsay would throw anyone out of whack, but you need to get him out of his slump.”

His pseudo-son exhaled dejectedly though his sizable nose. “I know, I kind of mentioned it this morning but he’s being so uncooperative… I’ll try to talk to him tonight. He hardly said anything when we got to his place last night. He’s just so… I don’t even know…”

Geoff looked at Gav sympathetically and pulled him into a hug. “Stay strong, buddy,” he muttered. “I know you can fix him up.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around the older man tightly.

“Thanks, Geoff.”

“Don’t mention it.”


	19. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jesus. Fucking. Christ. 
> 
> Almost six fucking months! The whole summer!! I let my writer's block take me without a fight. I hate myself.
> 
> So yeah, school. Kinda sucks. I leave the house at 8:30am and get home around 6:30pm on Mondays and Wednesdays. Fucking rush hour. I haven't a clue what's going on in my French writing class. Boston has a pretty large Haitian community, and they're pretty much native French speakers, and both my French classes are mostly them (well, not exactly French classes; they're a writing class and a film class taught in French). They talk a mile a minute and me and my only friend in that class (also American, also a French major with no fucking clue why she's a French major in the first place), and it makes me feel like an idiot. What am I doing with my life?
> 
> Ooh! I found that someone had recommended this story to someone on Tumblr! Christ, did that inflate my ego. I was so goddamn bubbly the next day. 
> 
> Anyways. Enjoy the fruits of my sudden inspiration!

Ryan had always been a perceptive motherfucker.

He wasn’t terribly nosey, he just noticed things. And once in a while, he’d try to do some reconnaissance, eavesdropping and reading over shoulders, and usually he ended up feeling guilty. But sometimes he was just too curious.

He knew something was wrong with Michael; he oft looked sullen and rarely spoke unless spoken to nowadays, quite the oddity. And he knew that Gavin knew what was up.

Only half the Hunters were in the office. Gavin was hunched over a notebook, writing in quick, frantic bursts. Geoff sat at his computer researching potential games for future Let’s Plays, occasionally asking Ryan’s input. From how he didn’t bother asking Gavin, Ryan suspected Geoff may know what’s going on too.

He tapped his can of Diet Coke with his middle finger. It was nearly empty. He looked over at Gavin, and the temptation won him over.

“Making a Coke run,” he declared. “Want anything?”

“’Nother beer,” Geoff said without looking up.

“Gavin?”

“Nah thanks,” the Brit mumbled.

Ryan slid from the couch and turned for the door, making his walk past Gavin slow.

He peeked over Gavin’s shoulder and saw what looked like a list of bulleted points in messy handwriting.

  *         _job important, have fans_
  *         _work will help get you back to normal_
  *         _Geoff has been very lenient but needs you back_



The rest of the list was covered by Gavin’s arm. Ryan frowned as he walked from the room, trying to make sense of it.

_Maybe he’s confronting Michael about something… but what?_

Perhaps he could ask Geoff…

\--

Gavin read over his list again and again until it was time to go home, trying to memorize his points and arrange them in what he thought was the most effective order. He was glad the mandatory videos had been recorded prior to the start of his list, else he would probably have been too distracted to play.

He and Michael’s journey home was quiet. He could tell Michael was again in no mood to talk, though he had mustered a bit of vinegar for the morning’s LPs.

Their dinner of leftover Rudy’s was quiet too, save for a few casual questions from Gavin and short, muttered answers from Michael.

_Need to snap out of this. She will cool down eventually. Community may get disappointed. Geoff has cut a lot of slack._

Gavin took a deep breath after clearing their dishes from the table.

Michael stood and started shuffling towards the bedroom. Gavin caught up with him and grabbed his arm. Michael stopped short and Gavin could see his shoulders tense.

“Michael…” he said softly, but then more firmly as he turned the other man towards him. “Michael.”

Michael said nothing, just staring at the floor.

Gavin grabbed his chin and pulled his head up in an attempt to connect their gazes.

“Michael, look at me. Please.”

Michael looked up at him with dull eyes. Gavin sighed and let go of his chin, gliding his hand over his freckled cheek and resting it comfortingly on his neck.

“Look…” he started, trying to conjure up the speech he had mentally rehearsed all day. “I understand that this whole thing with Lindsay”—at her name, Michael’s eyebrows twitched—“is quite hard… I mean, I can’t even imagine how you feel right now, and I do sympathize, I really do, but boi… the company… the company is suffering because of this slump you’re in right now. You may not see it, and I don’t think anyone has really noticed besides Geoff, but we really need you. You’re a part of something great, something inspiring, and our audience counts on you. Geoff has given you time when you’ve needed it, a lot of time, and has hidden it from Burnie and Matt, but really… I don’t know if we can afford any more. You need to snap out of this. At least at work.”

Michael had begun biting his lip partway through Gavin’s spiel. His eyes strayed again.

Gavin was becoming frustrated. He grabbed Michael’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Michael. Do you hear me? Are you listening?”

Michael gave a little nod, gaze still fixed on a scuff mark on the wall. The refrigerator began its humming and the dishwasher continued its swishing.

“Michael,” the Brit said again through gritted teeth, shaking him again. “I would do absolutely anything for you. You know that. But I don’t know how to help you right now. You need to talk to me. Talk to someone. But until you are completely through this, you need to leave this trance of yours at the door. You need to be present in videos.”

He could see Michael’s lip begin to tremble. He softened immediately, drawing Michael into an embrace and stroking the back of his curly head.

“I’m sorry, Michael…” Gavin whispered with lips pressed to his boi’s forehead. It smelled like a newborn. “I’m being a right git, I know, but… this is getting to be too much.”

Michael’s hands grasped at the back of Gavin’s shirt.

“I know,” he croaked, and Gavin could hear the inception of tears in his voice. “I want to, b-but..”

Gavin hushed him gently and kissed his hair. “I’ll do everything I can to help you. Just say the word.”

“Just hold me and tell me everything will be okay.”

“Okay.”

Gavin kissed a tear from Michael’s cheek and led him to the bathroom where he bathed the two of them, whispering in Michael’s ear once in a while, smiling when he heard a serene sigh.

They toweled off and dressed for bed, then slid under the covers, illuminated by lamplight. Gavin cupped Michael’s face and stroked it gently. Michael’s eyes fluttered closed.

“You’re going to make it, love,” Gavin whispered, kissing the other’s nose. “You’re the most stubborn bastard I know. We’ll get through this.”

Michael’s mouth twitched in a sort of smile, and he opened his eyes slightly before pressing his lips to Gavin’s.

“Thanks, boi.”

“Anytime, anywhere.”

They kissed again, and their connections lasted longer and longer and grew more passionate. Michael ran his hands down Gavin’s chest through the forest of hair and Gavin gripped Michael’s hip tightly, holding them together. He could feel himself getting hotter.

His fingers gradually made their way even more southward, and Michael inhaled sharply as they traced the bulge in his pajama bottoms.

“I-is this okay?” Gavin muttered nervously.

Michael grinned for the first time in ages, and Gavin’s heart soared. The Jersian reached around to grab the other’s ass.

“Very okay.”


	20. Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, shit. Two and a half months.
> 
> I promise, I've been busy. Christmas had my fingers very occupied with all the crocheting I did. Knitting too! I relearned so I could make boyfriend a sweater. An entire fucking sweater!! And it turned out wearable!!! I'm crocheting like mad nowadays too-- I need to finish a scarf and hat for my uncle before mum and I go to New York to see him in a play, I need to keep up with a blanket I'm making for myself with each row corresponding to the day's temperature (gonna be a whole year... 366 rows = one big-ass blanket), I need to finish a hat for my bro for his birthday as well as something for my best lady friend for her birthday (though that can be late), and I need to throw together something for Alex for Valentine's Day... Can I do it? Fuck, I hope so.
> 
> This is the first gay sex scene I've written in a long time. Fortunately, since then, I've had some experience with male genitalia, so hopefully this chapter is realistic enough. Boyfriend, you are my muse <3
> 
> Speaking of which, I have to get up early-ish to meet him tomorrow (though we'll just end up napping the day away, I'm sure) and it's past 3. And I'm a little sick.
> 
> Enjoy and gimme feedback!

Gavin was nervous, there was no denying that.

He’d never once thought in the years since his discovery of masturbation that he would ever do anything remotely gay (besides that one short, of course, but that was for the sake of comedy and not something he had particularly enjoyed). Of course, as most boys do, his curiosity got the better of him one night and he bunged on a bit of gay porn, but after two minutes he had wrinkled his nose in dislike and switched to some girl-on-girl action.

As he gently palmed Michael’s manhood, he tried to recall that video from years ago without much success.

_I guess I should just do what I would do solo…_

With apprehensive fingers he tugged down the waistbands of Michael’s pajama bottoms and boxers.

He could tell Michael was as nervous as he was; he was biting his lip as he looked down at Gavin’s progress, and it seemed he was holding his breath.

“Are you sure, Michael?” Gavin whispered.

“Yeah,” the freckled man replied after a moment’s hesitation.

“Alright, just tell me if you want me to stop.”

Very carefully, he pulled the bottoms farther down, freeing Michael’s cock. It was hard to see under the covers, but from what Gavin felt it was around average length but quite thick, thicker than his own at least. It was very warm and the skin was soft. It was strange, but not unpleasant.

Michael hissed as Gavin tightened his grip—the brit assumed his fingers were cold and smiled apologetically—but his eyes closed and his brow furrowed, and Gavin was astounded by how incredibly beautiful he looked. And when he expressed this to his boi, he gave a shaky laugh and muttered “you’re so gay.”

“More like… boi-sexual.”

Michael snorted and drew him into a kiss, giving a twitch when Gavin squeezed his cock.

Gavin broke the kiss and shimmied the other’s pajama pants and boxers down past his bottom and pulled his tee-shirt emblazoned with the Rooster Teeth logo. “Lie on your back.”

Michael obliged. Gavin pushed the covers back, exposing the concealed manhood beneath. He took in the sight.

He wasn’t sure how this made him feel. He’d never found cocks arousing as a straight man. He wasn’t even sure what sexual orientation he belonged to anymore, as bisexuality only seemed to extend to Michael. And even then it was more of an emotional thing, but he couldn’t ignore the near-essentialness of physical intimacy forever. Of course he wanted to make his boi feel good in every way.

_Well… it’s not like minges are the most attractive things either._

The sight of a vagina had never been particularly arousing, it was just the implication of sex. So, he supposed, it’d be the same for a dick.

“Done admiring?”

Gavin was brought back to reality by the sound of Michael’s voice. He looked up and saw the other man grinning at him with a lidded gaze.

“Impressive, I know,” he said throatily.

Gavin grinned back. “Quite.”

He dragged his long fingers lightly from balls to tip, where he began to slowly massage it with his first three digits. Michael sighed contentedly.

He lay down on his left side, propped up by his elbow, and released briefly to lick his palm, quickly returning to Michael’s manhood. He began stroking it slowly.

“Gav…” the brunette breathed, pushing himself into the hand caressing him.

“Shh.” The Brit kissed the other’s freckled shoulder and traced a path with his nose up to Michael’s cheek where he pressed his lips to it and began to speed up.

Michael groaned, ending with a shaky chuckle. “Would you believe it if I told you I haven’t jerked off in a week and a half?”

Gavin gave a bemused laugh. “Yeah? How come?”

“Was waiting for this, dumbass. Ahh…”

Gavin laughed again and gripped a little tighter, causing Michael’s legs to jerk. He was actually enjoying himself, relishing the little sounds from his boi and the expressions on his flushed face.

And now _he_ was getting hard, but of course he wouldn’t ask Michael to reciprocate. This was a big step after all, a far leap from what they had done thus far anyways. They didn’t have to do everything in one night.

Minutes passed in a blur of quiet moans and the occasional squeak of bedsprings when Michael would jump a little. Gavin’s arm was beginning to get tired, but he was determined.

“Gavin, I’m close,” Michael panted, and Gavin felt his pulse quicken as he heard the urgency in his boi’s voice. He’d always liked vocal partners.

“Faster?”

“Y-yeah…”

And he obliged, hastening his pace and grabbing Michael gingerly by the hair to pull him into a kiss. Michael kissed back for a few seconds but his lips slackened as he neared climax.

“Come on, boi,” the sandy-haired man whispered, giving the other’s shoulder an affectionate nip.

“Oh fuck… Gav, I’m co—shhhhhhhiiit, oh god—” Michael breathed, and Gavin watched as his smooth stomach became streaked with milky white ( _he wasn’t lying, he really had been waiting)_ and his lower body twitched. He gave little gasps as Gavin’s pumping of his now very sensitive and very empty cock slowed to a stop.

He relaxed heavily back onto the pillows, eyes closed. “Goddamn, Gav…”

Gavin was gazing at Michael’s seed-colored belly with half-lidded eyes and a slightly open mouth. He hadn’t expected the scene to be quite so erotic, quite so enticing… the proof of his literal handiwork gave him a sort of satisfaction.

He tore his staring eyes away from the mess below to instead take in the flushed, freckled face that shone slightly in the lamplight.

He caressed Michael’s left cheek and kissed him softly. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

Michael reddened further.

Gavin kissed his temple and rolled off the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. He wet one end and returned to wipe Michael clean and tossed it in the hamper, then re-clothed him. Michael’s eyes were fluttering shut.

Gavin smiled. “Tired?”

“Mmhmmph…”

He smiled wider and slid into bed beside Michael who immediately rolled to his side to wrap and arm around Gavin’s chest. Gavin felt a swell of happiness.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“No need to thank me, boi.”

“You’re, like… really good at that…”

Gavin snorted. “Years of practice, love.”

“I’m gonna sleep now… g’night...”

“Night, Michael.”


End file.
